Renegade
by shialuvr222
Summary: Sometimes, like when Kate died, you grieve, but you move on, because there's nothing to do but move forward. But sometimes, the loss will change you into something else, unrecognizable, because there is no moving on.
1. Prologue

Prologue

"Where is he?"

"I don't know!"

There was the sound of a cocking .44. Peter Simmons saw the barrel and a thin white hand, the most he had seen of his attacker.

"Why? All she ever did was try to help you. She cleared your name for murder, for God's sake. And you set her up to be killed." He felt another kick land on his freshly bruised body. "Why?"

"He paid me, and my mother, she's in debt-"

"Oh, save it for someone who cares."

Simmons glanced up in the direction of the hostile voice. They were in an abandoned parking lot. He lay in the orange light of the street lamp, cursing himself for his own greed. He wished he could at least see the man's face.

"Where is he?"

Simmons shook with fear. "I-I don't know. He left instructions and the money in an envelope outside my house, I never met him-"

"Oh, shut up!" The voice snarled, the voice full of hate. "I hope you're ready to die, because if not…"

Simmons swallowed. "…If not?"

"Then you'd better get ready, real soon."

"Who are you?"

The gun moved closer, revealing the face of an angry-looking mid-forties man that, Simmons instantly knew, would be the death of him.

"Timothy McGee," he spat.

In the parking lot, a lone gunshot could be heard.


	2. Chapter 1

_Ring-ring._

Banter continued to fill the bullpen as Gibbs answered his phone.

"Gibbs."

He listened for a moment before hanging up, standing and snatching up his badge and service revolver.

"Gear up," he said quietly, heading past them towards the elevator. As they joined him inside, Tony sensed something amiss.

"…Boss?"

Then he got "the look." The look that Gibbs only wore in one situation. Tony was dismayed.

"He's back, isn't he?"

Gibbs stared at him for a long moment.

"Yeah, he's back."

They arrived at the crime scene half an hour later, to be met by Metro police, who had been called to the scene that morning.

"Agent Gibbs." A young detective greeted him. "Jess Sanders, Metro Police. We got a call from the man who owns the building at 8:36 this morning. When we confirmed it, we were informed to call you immediately, no questions asked, and secure the crime scene, but not to touch anything." She paused. "I understand this is your scene, Agent Gibbs, but for now, this remains a case of interest for Metro Police. Now, we could run our own investigations, and keep running into each other, or we could work together and cover more ground, not to mention make this easier on the both of us."

Gibbs considered. "You're right. This is my investigation. And I'm not going to take any crap from you or your boss." He nodded. "My investigation, my rules. We get the evidence, the statements, the photos…"

"You're welcome to it, Agent Gibbs. All my office and I want is to be in the loop, to know what's going on. And to be there while it's happening."

Gibbs sighed. "Alright."

He turned to the team. "Tony, pictures, then witness statements. Ziva, sketches, then bag and tag."

They got to work. Gibbs missed the old dynamic.

_Probably should be used to it by now, _he thought. Then again, he never had adjusted, after what had happened…..

How badly he wished he could go back and change things.

"Gibbs!" Ziva snapped him out of his reverie and waved him over.

"It is definitely him, Gibbs," she said as he joined her next to the body. She handed him a plastic evidence bag with the familiar calling card that was always there, next to one of the bodies. One of the many men or women that He had killed.

It was a plain white index card with assorted letters from magazines and newspapers spelling a name, the name of the killer Gibbs and the team had hunted for five years.

It read _TIMOTHY MCGEE._


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Hey guys! First, thank you for reading and for all of the great reviews. When you review, you REALLY make my day. Second, I hope that I revealed enough in this chapter to give you a clue as to what's going on but didn't reveal enough to make it boring and lose all of my awesome readers. Also, I hope Tim's age concerns are addressed. So please enjoy, and review, review, review. Reviews are love.

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. If I did, do you think I'd be _HERE?_

In his dark, dirty motel room, Tim ran his hands through his hair. Simmons had been his last lead to Karisky. Even the name sent a surge of hate through him. He had sworn to kill the man, and he had been trying for all his worth for five years, but now he was stuck.

Back to block 1.

He couldn't fail her again. He already had once…..

He opened the light messenger bag he always traveled with and reached in to remove the alchohol therein, but paused when his hand brushed a photograph. He hesitated, but withdrew the picture, instantly regretting his decision. The pain was overwhelming.

It was a picture taken on his wedding day.

He and Abby were kissing in the picture. That was ten years ago. His heart wrenched, but he didn't cry. He'd spent the last five years crying; he couldn't cry anymore.

He thought about how, after she'd been killed, he had held the gun to his head and nearly pulled the trigger, before vowing to avenge her first.

He reached back into the bag and withdrew the liquor, trying to lose himself, just for now.

NCIS*NCIS*NCIS

That was it. She officially didn't get it. Not that the team was exactly normal, but she'd hazard a guess that they were acting especially strange.

There was something she didn't know; at least, she suspected so. Sure, when she joined this investigation, she had been thoroughly briefed by Tony and Ziva, but one thing bothered her. For starters, EVERY time he killed someone, this team was ALWAYS called. No exceptions. They had even had to go to California once. She'd looked it up. Plus, she was guessing that the discreet glances and suppressed sighs weren't an everyday thing for the MCRT. At least, one would hope not.

One thing she was sure of – something wasn't adding up.

A/N: So, waddaya think? PLEASE REVIEW. If the boys and girls are good (meaning YOU), and give me enough reviews, I might be persuaded to post the next chapter early! And yet, that is a utter and shameless BRIBE.

Hope you enjoyed it!

Reader and pineapple aficionado for life,

Shialuvr222

(Or you can refer to me as Morgan, that's cool too)

P.S. I'm riding solo right now, meaning I don't have a beta reader, and I can do without, but if you just so happen to be a beta tester and you feel like helping me out, I CERTAINLY won't say no. That would be awesome.

Thanks!


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: Hey, so, I hope you liked the last chapter. I wouldn't know because in _one week_ I got ONE REVIEW. And it was from my sister. It figures that the one week I ask for them is the one week I get none. So….. please?

=P Hope you enjoy =]

***NCIS***NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*

Jess quietly made her way down the steps in Gibbs' basement. She had just discovered that he didn't lock the door. _Why does he have a boat, and why is he sanding it?_

She tried to smile. "Hey there."

He kept sanding.

She walked into his line of vision. The thought that he – or anyone else she worked with, for that matter - had lied to her, made her throat close up.

"Can we talk?"

Gibbs smiled. _If I had a nickel…_

"What's on your mind?"

"Well….. is there something you're not telling me?"

"About what?"

"About this killer."

He sighed. He should have known it was coming eventually.

"Because if there is - "

"What would make you think that?"

She counted them off on her fingers. "First, he kills someone, and you automatically get a call, even across the country, where there are closer teams with access to the files and easier, not to mention faster, access to the body. Second, you're all acting really weird on this particular case. And third, he was around and killing before I heard about him, so I'm willing to bet that you all have been chasing him from the beginning."

"So what do you want?"

"How long have you been chasing him, Gibbs?"

Gibbs sighed. "Five years."

"Really? Only five?"

"What else?"

"What happened five years ago?"

"What did DiNozzo and David tell you?"

"Five years ago, a woman witnessed a crime committed by Demetrius Karisky, a drug dealer and a murderer, so he killed her to keep her quiet. Her husband, Timothy McGee, went rogue and is now chasing down and killing all associated with her murder. His main goal is Karisky himself."

After a moment, Gibbs asked calmly and quietly, "So what do you expect me to tell you?"

She spread her arms wide.

"Okay, what do you _want _me to tell you?

"The truth."

"That is the truth."

"Is that all of it?"

She was met with silence and a Gibbs glare. Realizing she wouldn't get the answers this way, she stormed up the stairs and out the door, slamming it shut loudly behind her.

She needed a new approach.

Seething, she made her way back to her apartment and fell asleep, exhausted, before her head hit the pillow.

***NCIS***NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*

Tony sat on his couch, exhausted and numb. So numb that, when he heard his lock being picked and someone quietly entering his apartment, he did nothing. Then again, maybe he just knew it was Ziva.

She walked in, holding a bottle of rum in one hand, a couple of shot glasses in the other. He didn't even look up.

"So." She tried to break the suffocating silence as she sat next to him, pouring them both a glass. He took the one she quietly handed him.

And they sat, each of them finding comfort in the other's presence.

Finally, Tony spoke.

"How could it have gone downhill so fast?" He shook his head, still refusing to look at her. "Five years, and I still don't get it."

"None of us do."

"I miss them, Zee. I miss them both." He finally made eye contact, briefly. The he looked away again, straight in front of him.

"McGee is still out there, Tony."

"No. A killer is still out there. The man we knew is gone." He sipped his drink slowly.

"He died with Abby."

***NCIS***NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*

A/N: I hope you like it! And I hope you'll review! **wink wink, nudge nudge, Bob's your uncle, as Tony would say**

By the way, if you have any questions, feel free to ask me and I'll do my best to answer them (without spoiling the plot) **rubs hands together in anticipation**

Thanks for reading!

Reader and pineapple aficionado for life,

Shialuvr222


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: I know it's Monday and I just updated two days ago, but today is my sister's birthday, and this chapter is her present. Happy Birthday!

Gibbs said nothing about Tony's silence the next morning. He had learned on _these_ cases to give his team some space. Nor did he say anything in particular to Jess when she walked in, simply pointed to the spare desk behind the half-wall and headed up the stairs to the director's office. She sighed and took the seat, not understanding his logic.

"He doesn't like me very much, does he?" She asked once she was sure he was out of earshot. Tony smiled, but it was short-lived when he remembered who had said that before. Finally, Ziva asked, "Why would you say that?"

"Well, because he doesn't want to look at me. Why else would he put me back here in the corner?"

Now both agents laughed. Tony started the explanation.

"It's not that he doesn't _like_ you….."

"…..although we are not inside his head….."

"…..he just refuses to fill that desk, is all."

Jess marveled at how in sync they all were. They even finished each other's sentences.

"Why?"

The smiles disappeared.

"He simply does not want it filled again. That is all," Ziva answered cautiously.

"Again? You mean there was someone here before?" She asked, her interest now thoroughly piqued. She stood up and leaned against the half-wall, studying the desk.

Silence.

Finally, Tony answered. "Yeah."

"What happened to them?"

The silence was longer this time. When Tony spoke, minutes later, only Ziva, having known him long enough to know when he was upset, noticed the slight strain in his voice.

"Lost 'em," he said quietly.

***NCIS***NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*

Gibbs walked past Cynthia and into the office as usual, closing the door behind him. Vance smiled.

"Come in, Jethro."

"We need to talk."

"So talk. No one's stopping you."

"Okay, it's about the current case."

"What about it?"

"We're not gettin' anywhere, Leon."

He smiled again. "What, you're telling me that Team Gibbs can't manage to track down one man?"

"Now, you know good and well that this isn't just a man."

"Okay, so it's an ex-agent. No one can hide forever, Jethro."

"He's not hiding from us, Leon, and he's not running away, he's trying to find the man who did _that_ to Abby! You know that better than most people!"

"No one's invincible."

"He doesn't have to be." Frustrated, Gibbs came closer, leaning on the desk with his hands. "He was taught by a high-level ex-Secret Service agent, a Baltimore cop, an ex-Mossad operative, an M.E., a Marine sniper and the best forensic analyst in the country, _in addition _to basic _and_ advanced training! He doesn't _have_ to try!"

Vance calmly folded his hands on his desk. "I see your point, Gibbs. What do you want? You want the lead on this case handed over to someone else?"

"No, Leon, I want to be able to find Karisky-"

Before his sentence was even through, Vance was on his feet, incomprehensibly yelling at Gibbs and being met with the same reception. Gibbs slammed his hand on the desk and shouted, "LEON!"

They both stopped to breathe.

"You know it's not going to happen, Jethro," Vance said angrily. "We've had this discussion. You're lucky you've gotten lead of HIS murders. You know I don't want you or your team going after Karisky. It's too personal."

"Why, because McGee wants him dead?"

"No, Jethro, because he killed Abby and _you_ want him dead. Besides, you need to let go. He's not on our side now." He paused. "He doesn't have your six anymore."

"Listen to me, Leon. Just hear me out."

"…..Alright, Gibbs. You have my attention."

"We're not getting anywhere on finding McGee."

"You don't want to catch him, Jethro. You want him to catch Karisky and put a bullet through his head."

"No, I want him somewhere safe so we can go after Karisky."

"If you had a shot on McGee and authorization to take it, would you?"

Gibbs glared at him. "My point is, Leon, that we have to go where we know he will. We can't continue to follow along. And you and I both know that we could get this guy easy. We could hit him where it hurts. But we can't do that unless you let us work the case."

There was a long moment of silence as Vance weighed his options. Finally, against his better judgment, he agreed.

"Alright. But Jethro, the moment I decide it's gotten too personal, you're gonna be stuck wishin' it was you back on the other side of the fence. And this time, I won't be letting you back in." He opened the cabinet of Major Cases and fished out a file, a rather thick one at that, and handed it to Gibbs.

"This is all they have on the case so far. You can start right away." He paused, smiling slightly. "Just out of curiosity, Gibbs, if you had that shot….. would you take it?"

Gibbs took the file and, fruitlessly resisting the humorless smile that came to his face, walked out of the office, simply saying, "Thank you, Di-rector."

A/N: So, waddaya think? Let me know! PLEASE!


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: Hey! Saturday came very slowly this week. I know the chapters are short, but they look longer on paper, and I try to focus more on quality than quantity. Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed, and a special thanks to _Hermione's Shadow_. Enjoy!

_Only Gibbs could get us the Karisky case,_ Tony thought in amazement. _Then again, only Gibbs has the persistence to keep trying for five years. _

"Where is he now?"

"Brazil, boss. He's flying to New York in three days."

"Why?"

"Officially? To take care of his fortune."

"And unofficially?"

"Suspected mob connections, boss. Could be a meeting."

"Doesn't your father live in New York, DiNozzo?"

Tony groaned. It was going to be a long week.

***NCIS***NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*

He was back. What had it been, maybe four months since he had killed last?

But now….. now, he was _really_ back. Back in D.C.. He hadn't been there since…

Gibbs wondered if they'd see him in New York. They were leaving tomorrow morning at 09:00. And somehow, he _always_ managed to get any information the agency had on Karisky. Always.

Gibbs wandered around his empty house for a while before ending up in his basement. But tonight, he found no solace in the boat. And as he sanded, he gradually became aware of someone watching him.

He turned around and looked in the dark area beside the stairs.

"Hello, McGee."

"Hello, Gibbs."

"It's been a while."

"Oh, I've seen you. You just haven't seen me."

"Why are you here?"

"You know I haven't been in D.C. for years, Gibbs." He stood up, into the light.

"Why'd you do it, Tim?"

"What, come back?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

"You've been waiting to ask me that since it happened, haven't you?"

"Well?"

"Because he deserves it." Gibbs saw a hardness in his eyes he'd never seen before, save once. "What he did to Abby undoes anything good he may have accomplished in his pitiful existence."

"Why don't you let me help you?"

He smiled. "You can't help me."

"You used to trust me, Tim."

"Now he laughed humorlessly. "Trust. That's a funny idea. Works in theory, but I guess people are too stupid, prejudiced or self-reliant for it to work."

"There are good people out there, McGee. People who care about you, believe it or not."

"Abby was the best person I'd ever met in my life, and some demented, underhanded psycho took her away from me."

"I cared about Abby too, you know."

Tim looked hurt. "Then why aren't you doing the same thing I'm doing, _right now?_"

"Because I'm doing the right thing, McGee! If we'd caught your victims before you killed them, they'd be rotting in jail right now! Probably Karisky, too!"

The look of hate in Tim's eyes at the mention of the name was infathomable. "Karisky doesn't deserve the comforts of jail. He doesn't even deserve to rot in one. Karisky doesn't deserve to _live_."

"And what do you imagine he _does _deserve?"

"Hell." The word was spoken immediately, without a shadow of a doubt.

"You used to be a good person, Tim. Abby would hate this."

"Well, Abby's gone!" Tim raised his voice angrily just before his face betrayed a weariness and pain that Gibbs wasn't unfamiliar with. "And I stopped caring what I did five years ago."

And with that he left, silent and unseen, into the blackness of the night.

Gibbs slowly picked up his phone and hit speed dial number one.

"Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo."

"Yeah, Tony-"

"Oh, hey, boss. What's goin' on?"

"Move up our flight to the soonest one available. We're leaving tonight."

A/N: So, what did you think? I'm not a mind reader, so you'll have to use the old fashioned way and review. PLEASE OH PLEASE. And about the long words Tim used in this chapter (at least, they're longish) I was thinking that, since he's a writer (or WAS a writer) than he would know stuff like that, and since I'm a Christian, I'm doing my best to describe what I mean without swearing. How am I doing? Let me know when you REVIEW. PLEASE. Thanks!

Reader and pineapple aficionado for life,

shialuvr222


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: I am SO SORRY that the update is late! I had writers block this week, so I ended up finishing this chapter in my only spare time yesterday, and I didn't have time to upload. To make up for it, I've made this chapter longer. It's mostly Tony-centric, since it's his dad and all,with a touch of Tiva. I'll start getting into personal feelings sometime soon, since I realized the only actually personal feelings I've gone into so far are Tim's. I'm semi-satisfied with this chapter, it seems a little rough to me. Let me know what you think. I'll probably re-edit this one later. Happy reading!

Tony met Gibbs at the airport at 11:45. The plane would leave in an hour.

"Hey, boss. Ziva's not here yet. Flight's at quarter to one…. Um…"

"You got somethin' to say, DiNozzo?"

"No. Just wondering why the sudden reschedule."

"Because I told you to."

"Hello."

Tony jumped and Gibbs smiled as Ziva, a smirk on her face, walked around from behind Tony with a messenger bag.

"Did I scare you, Tony?"

"Why do you hate me?"

They made their way through security in silence and eventually boarded the plane. Tony sat next to the window and Ziva the aisle, with Gibbs in between them.

As the plane prepared to take off, Gibbs asked, eyes closed, "Ziva, how did Tony get here before you?"

There was some hesitation before she answered, "When Tony called me, I was out. I had to go home in order to get my bag."

"Oh."

"Why?"

"I just wanted to hear your story before I did this." He slapped both of them upside the head.

"What was that for?" Tony complained, rubbing his now-sore head.

"For breaking rule 12."

The two exchanged a glance. So much for keeping _that _a secret.

It was a long and quiet plane ride, with Gibbs resting and reflecting on the conversation in the basement, Ziva unsuccessfully trying to clear her mind and Tony wondering how Gibbs knew Ziva had been with him while simultaneously thinking about what he would say to his father.

Finally, the latter two tried to get some sleep. They knew it might be a while before they got that chance again.

*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*

"How will we find your father, Tony? This is quite a busy airport," Ziva asked as they exited the 747. Tony grimaced.

"Don't worry about it. He'll find us. He has this bad habit of doing that." Then he smiled, saying in a deep voice, "I'm like a bad penny. I always show up."

"I am not even going to ask."

"What? You don't even know _that_ one?" He dropped his bags and raised his hands theatrically. "I'm shocked at you, Ziva. Really."

"Junior!"

Tony swallowed and turned around in the direction of a familiar voice. "Hi, Dad."

"Harrison Ford's voice is deeper than that, son," Anthony DiNozzo Sr. commented before crossing over to Ziva and kissing her on the cheek warmly. Then he looked at Gibbs. "I take it this isn't a social visit."

"What connections do you have to the mob?"

"Now, I may be short on money, but I do not do business with criminals!"

Tony started to argue, and his father raised a finger and conditioned the statement.

"Not _knowingly_. My point is, Agent Gibbs, if you're going to accuse me of something, it had better be something I did. I may not be rich anymore, but I have connections."

"Which is why we're here."

"What? Wait, start from the beginning."

"Um… well, Dad, could we have this discussion somewhere a little more… private?"

"…Sure, son."

They had some difficulty all fitting into his small car, a Prius. As Ziva squeezed next to Tony in the backseat, he commented, "Is it just me, or is it getting crowded in here?"

But finally, they reached the DiNozzo mansion. Up on a hill on Long Island, it looked imposing from a distance, backing up Tony's description as 'the Psycho house', but it appeared a little more welcoming as they approached.

"Home, sweet home," the elder DiNozzo commented as he led them inside.

"Wow." Tony's eyes were wide after entering his childhood home. "It's so quiet without some wife of yours running around."

"I know, isn't it?" His father agreed. "It's so weird." Raising an eyebrow at Ziva, she cut him off before he even began. "I don't think so."

"So, Dad, when exactly did your last wife leave?"

"About a year or two ago. And you know what she said in her letter? 'If you really love me, you'll let me go'!"

Tony snorted. "Tippi Hedren probably said it better."

DiNozzo Sr. laughed and raised his hands. "No arguments here, son."

They followed him up to his office, where he motioned for them to take a seat.

"Alright. Now tell me why you think I'm connected with the mob."

Tony sighed. "We don't. But we'd hoped that one of your 'connections' might have some information or something."

"Oh… why?"

Gibbs and Tony exchanged a glance. It was time fore the truth that so few people knew.

"Dad, how often do you watch the news?"

"Every night, why?"

"You have heard of a killer, yes?"

He looked from Tony to Ziva and back to Tony. "I've heard of a lot of killers."

"This killer is different." Tony got that look on his face of anger and determination. "He's never seen. Never leaves any evidence except an index card with his name on it, a name not released to the public and only known by those who unsuccessfully try to catch him. He goes all over the country, sometimes the world, and kills victims connected to one crime: his wife's murder; he always leaves incriminating evidence of his victim's guilt, and he's after the one behind it all."

"Um… oh, yeah, I've heard about him! He killed most recently in, um, D.C., I think."

"Yeah."

"Wait, are you the ones investigating this case?"

Ziva nodded. "We are."

"So you know who it is?"

"We do."

"Well, who?"

"Dad… um…" Tony shifted uncomfortably. "…Do you remember Tim and Abby?"

"Yes, but what has that got…" His jaw dropped as realization dawned in his eyes. "But… but you told me that Abby moved to California after Tim was shot and killed in the field!"

"That's what we told everybody, Dad! Don't you see?"

"If we told the truth, panic would rise about law enforcement becoming killers," Ziva cut in.

"So Abby….. Abby's dead?"

Tears came to Tony's eyes, and he looked away. "Yeah," he almost whispered.

DiNozzo Sr. shook his head to clear it. "So what does all this have to do with me?"

"Demetrius Karisky is coming here. He arranged Abby's murder after she witnessed his crime. He's the one Tim's after. If you have any connections or friends who might have information, we need to know it." Gibbs finally spoke.

"Alright." DiNozzo Sr. nodded solemnly. "I'll make a call."

A few moments later, he hung up the phone. "Karisky will be staying at the Plaza Hotel. Suite 319."

*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*

On the other side of the wall, Tim smiled, taking the listening device away. He had gotten what he needed.

Now, the trap must be set.

A/N: So, what did you think? PLEASE let me know. By the way, yes, those _were_ indeed movie references!

Reference #1: "I'm like a bad penny. I always show up." Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade

Reference #2: "Is it just me, or is it getting crowded in here?" A Night at the Opera

Reference #3: "If you really love me, you'll let me go." Marnie

Next week (on time, I hope): An extra-long chapter with the (remainder of) the team's feelings about the situation, and Sarah will make an appearance (or at least a phone call)!

Hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for reading!

Reader and pineapple aficionado for life,

Shialuvr222


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: Firstly, I'm sorry. I know what I said would be in this chapter last week, but I felt very rushed trying to finish this with everything I told you about, so I have emotions of the remainder of the team. I would rather take another week and give you a quality chapter next Saturday than scramble to give you the full intended chapter now and have it be crappy. Please forgive me. Secondly, if there ever was a time that I not wanted but _needed_ reviews, that would be now. Honestly, I need to know how well you think I pulled the characters emotions off. I NEED feedback. PLEASE.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, the characters are not mine save Demetrius Karisky, however I did create this plot and wrote this story. If I did, own NCIS, I would be living it up in Los Angeles or Jamaica. [Just kidding about living it up… mostly… ;)]

Ziva ran her hands through her hair as the warm water etched pathways in her skin. Cleansing her, making her feel new, complete. She hadn't felt complete since the incident five years ago. In some ways, Abby and Tim had been more family than Ari or even Eli ever were.

The years of anger, frustration, determination and pain all came rushing up, and she pushed them back. Ignoring them, she focused on the clean feeling the water had given her.

She liked water. In Israel, there was desert. Lots and lots of desert. The first time she had seen the ocean, at 9 years old, she was amazed. She had never seen so much water before in her life. It was pure. Purity was also a rare and valuable asset in Israel, with all the war and unrest. And that was why she liked water, she decided. It washes away dirt and grime and leaves you clean and pure.

But, she thought darkly, it also has the power to destroy. To strip away a life's work in minutes. To kill. To annihilate. To-

_Stop._

She became aware that her breathing had quickened. She was shaking, and the bar of soap in her hands had now been squeezed and deformed to the point of oozing between her fingers at the slightest pressure, roughly the consistency of mud. Tony would have asked her, when did you get so strong?

She asked herself, _When did I get so angry?_

_When did I become such a violent, destructive person that soap is like putty to me?_

_When did that happen?_

Her questions answered themselves.

_When two of your family died._

Then her automatic response kicked in.

_Tim is still alive._

Tony's words echoed through her mind.

"_No. A killer is still out there. The man we knew is gone. He died with Abby."_

_No! A person is who they are. This side of McGee must have been there, buried deep inside his soul. That means – that means our friend is out there, somewhere._

She shut off the water and dried herself, looking at the dress she had to wear tonight. Karisky had arrived that afternoon, and a prestigious friend of the DiNozzos had agreed to throw a party with Karisky on the guest list for their operation.

This was their chance. Observe and report; those were their official orders. Unofficially, she didn't know yet.

She finished drying herself and slipped easily into the dress, wishing she felt as clean inside as she did out.

*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*

Betrayed. That's how he felt. Betrayed that his best friend, brother and, above all, _partner,_ could turn like that. That feeling of betrayal had followed him for five years.

It was completely irrational and illogical, he knew. Tim hadn't turned on him personally.

But he _had _turned his back on everything he believed in.

True, Abby had been unexpectedly and undeservingly murdered. True, Karisky deserved it.

True, if it was Ziva, he would probably be doing the same thing.

But still, he couldn't let go of the sense of injustice that good people should have to suffer while the selfish and greedy prosper.

So many people ask why. Why me, why him, why everything went wrong.

He asked _how._

How one of the best people he knew could fall so far, sink so low, become so different. Defy their moral standards and become something, some_one_, else, so angry, so heartbroken, as to change their ways completely and so sickeningly for the worse.

How?

He didn't know. But he believed it could happen.

Because he knew that, no matter what, Timothy McGee had been a good man.

The killer he had become, wasn't.

Still, he had to marvel at how quickly the transition had been made from hero to villain.

*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*

Gibbs ran through the plan again in his head. Tonight was mostly observe and report, but as Karisky had quite a taste for young ladies, they would be introducing him to Ziva tonight.

Hopefully, everything would go according to the plan.

He wouldn't be going into the party tonight, and for that much he was glad. He hated stuck-up events like this. He would be in the surveillance truck. Tony, Ziva and Anthony Sr. would be going in.

As he ran through the plan, he remembered on one of he and Shannen's first dates, she had asked him, _"Do you ever stop to smell the roses?"_

He smiled slightly, and remembered his answer. _"If they're worth smelling."_

Then the smile disappeared.

_Not anymore,_ he thought.

It was true; he didn't stop much anymore. Stopping meant thinking, and thinking meant remembering. And some things, he'd rather forget.

To be honest, he hadn't stopped and thought in-depth about it since a week after Tim went rogue in the first place, even though there were reminders everywhere. The empty desk in the bullpen; the stand-in half-educated crackpot forensic scientists that changed every week or so; the uninhabited apartment he knew Tony still paid for, since he couldn't bear to see it changed; the second-rate supposed "computer experts" who couldn't even crack their own passwords that Vance kept coming up with, since Gibbs would inevitably fire them within a week; and the sister that Tim left behind that they each, though separately, met at least once a week.

Tim…

Gibbs knew that some people asked why.

He also knew that some people asked how.

He knew that some people asked who, what, when or where.

He could ask all of them.

He had the questions, but he didn't have the answers. Those were what he sought.

Unfortunately, they were also what no one could give him.

A/N: So, what did you think? Like I said, I really need to know. Please?


	9. Chapter 8

A/N: Hey! So, as some of you know, I posted a oneshot on Thursday called Heavy In Your Arms. I wrote it just to sort of clear my head and give me some inspiration (the Block is getting more frequent now :O), and I was amazed by the reception it got. I didn't expect anything at all from it, and I got a subscription, a couple of favorites and a review asking me to turn it into a full story. Thanks, guys! I probably will make it a story now, but I'd like to get farther along with Renegade first.

Which brings me to our second subject: I'm going on hiatus. I know, it's mean, but I need to get ahead at least a few chapters and maybe work on the new story that has been requested of me. So take this chapter as a Christmas gift (I was going to stop last week), enjoy and please, PLEASE, review, review, review. Even with my honest request last week, I got ONE review. ONE. From my SISTER.

Enjoy!

Gibbs spread the blueprints of the building on the table. Two entrances, one fire escape and a third-story balcony. He hoped they wouldn't have to use the latter two.

Tony came down the stairs in an expensive looking tuxedo, followed by his father, in the suit he'd requisitioned from NCIS a few years ago. They joined Gibbs at the table.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?" Anthony asked brightly.

"Wait for Ziva," was Gibbs' gruff reply.

"Uh, boss, we won't be waiting very long." Gibbs turned around to see Tony gaping as Ziva walked down the stairs. She was stunning in the dress.

Tony's eyes were huge.

"I am sorry it took so long," she said quietly upon reaching them. Then she turned and looked at her googly-eyed co-worker. "Is there a problem, Tony?"

Finally, he tore his eyes away from the tight-fitting dress and looked her in the eyes.

"No, no problem."

He gulped, his eyes dropping again.

Gibbs turned back to the table, his hand making a detour to the back of DiNozzo's head on the way.

"Alright. Two entrances. One faces the alley, one the street. If there's an emergency, David, I want you on the alley, DiNozzo, take the street. Our _only_ target is Karisky. The other guests don't know we'll be there, and, no matter what you catch them doing, are _innocent_ bystanders. There's a fire escape that leads to the alley and a balcony overlooking the street. The host knows about our operation, and he invited Karisky just for us, so _don't_ blow it."

"What if something…..happens?" Tony asked.

"We deal with it, DiNozzo." Gibbs ignored what he knew Tony meant.

He didn't want to think about it.

*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*

Everyone was in position. Everything was set. Tony, Ziva and Anthony Sr. had just been greeted by their cooperative host.

"DiNozzo, David, any sign of Karisky?"

"Negative."

"None yet, boss. We'll keep our eyes peeled."

Gibbs fought back the urge to send a sharp remark DiNozzo's way. It wasn't his fault Karisky wasn't there yet. It wasn't his fault Abby had been murdered.

It wasn't his fault Tim had turned his back on them.

_Focus, Jethro._

"He is here."

Ziva's low warning captured Gibbs' attention, and they got a semi-clear image from the camera in her hair clip. The technicians confirmed it was him through AFIS.

"Here, let me introduce you," offered their host, leading Ziva away. She smiled and greeted the man, trying to pretend like she didn't despise him.

He was tall, slim and in his mid-to-late thirties, overall a surprisingly attractive man. She had always pictured him as, well, _colder_.

She sighed inwardly. _It will not be a short night._

*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*

Tony stepped out on the balcony for some air. He was alone. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. It was a warm night, and he breathed it in, savored it.

_Ring-ring. Ring-ring._

He sighed and lifted his cell phone from his pocket. Calle I.D. read Ziva. He frowned. _I thought Ziva was entertaining Karisky._

"Yeah, what's up, Ziva?"

"_Hello, Tony."_

His blood froze, and he almost dropped the phone, his hands were shaking so hard.

"Tim?"

"'_What's up' isn't very original. What happened to the Very Special Agent greeting?"_

He didn't know what to say.

"_What, does the famous Tony DiNozzo have nothing to say?" _the voice asked mockingly, devoid of any real humor. _"No smart-aleck remark, no movie reference, no witty comment?"_

"Why?"

"_You know, Gibbs asked me the same thing when we talked in his basement."_

"Gibbs….."

"_You should talk to him about it. I mean, of course he didn't _tell_ you. Doesn't want you asking too many questions, you understand."_

"What do you want?"

"_Now, that's more like it."_

"Well?"

"_Get out of there, Tony. You and Ziva and your father, get out."_

"Why?"

"_Just do it."_

_Beeeeep._

"The other party has ended the phone call. Please hang up, or hold for the operator.."

He stood there, absorbing everything he had said.

_Get out of there, Tony. You and Ziva and your father, get out._

He shook himself out of his reverie and hung up on the operator, heading inside. He soon scoped out where his father was. He didn't see Ziva, though.

"Abort mission. Repeat, abort mission _now_," he whispered into his mic.

Gibbs' voice came through the earpiece.

"What'r ya doin', DiNozzo?"

"Mission's been compromised, boss. We have to get out now."

"This is not a chance we get every day, Tony," Ziva hissed.

"I know, I know."

"DiNozzo-"

"Please_,_ boss. Act now, explain later."

Gibbs sighed. "Alright, this had better be good, though."

"It will be, boss. Trust me."

Tony plunged into the crowd as Ziva left. _Now, where did Dad go?_

*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*

Anthony DiNozzo Sr. hummed to himself as he dried his hands in the otherwise-empty men's room. Ziva had been charming, as usual.

He turned around – and stared straight down the barrel of a .44.

"Hello, Mr. DiNozzo."

"Agent… Agent McGee?"

A/N: MWAHAHA… was that evil of me or what? Please review! Oh Lord… this is going to be a long hiatus…..


	10. Chapter 9

A/N: So, I know that it's not been long since I went on hiatus, but I've already gotten a lot done and, to be honest, it sucked, not posting every Saturday. So, I'm back! Please enjoy!

P.S. Another slight cliffhanger here… Sorry…

Disclaimer: If I owned NCIS, Jeanne and Tony never would have met (save them both the heartache), Jenny wouldn't have died and Salim Olmar wouldn't have died so easily. Not to mention, as you may have gathered, Tim would probably be a little worse for wear.

_He turned around – and stared straight down the barrel of a .44._

"_Hello, Mr. DiNozzo."_

"_Agent… Agent McGee?"_

"Not anymore."

"What are you doing here?"

Tim chuckled.

"Okay, why are you pointing a gun at me?"

"Honestly?" He lowered it a little. "Because you had been out there with the other guests a minute ago, and I didn't know you were here. You surprised me."

"I…I did?"

"Yes. Now, please, kindly get out."

"Excuse me?"

"Mr. DiNozzo, you don't need to be here, you need to go."

He straightened. "I demand you tell me what you're doing and turn yourself in."

Now there was real humor as Tim laughed. "Not going to happen."

"Young man-"

He raised his .44 again. "Sir, I don't want to shoot you, but I will, believe me."

_Ring-ring._

"Oh, excuse me."

Anthony drew his cell phone from his pocket and was about to hang up when he saw that it was Tony.

"What is it, Junior? I'm kind of busy." He turned away.

"Dad, where are you?"

"The men's room. I-"

"The mission's been compromised. It's time to go."

"Junior, Agent – ex-Agent – McGee is in here asking me to leave. I have to find out what he's doing."

"_What?_ No, get out of there, Dad! He's dangerous! I mean it!"

"Junior-"

"_NO."_ His voice took on a harder tone. "You are a civilian, and this is an order from a Federal Agent. GET OUT."

"Okay, okay. I'm going."

Anthony flipped his phone closed, annoyed. He turned back to say he was leaving.

Then he discovered, he was alone.

NCIS

"Wait, _what_ happened?"

"I was just washing my hands. I turned around, and he was there."

They were in the back of the van, across the street from the party they had just left. Their surveillance was being quickly removed. Needless to say, Tony was angry.

"So, what did you say?"

"Um… Well, I called him Agent McGee."

Tony put his head in his hands. "Dad," he groaned, slightly muffled, with a "Why?" that was focused towards himself.

"What happened then?" Gibbs spoke quietly.

"Um, I asked why he was pointing a gun at me."

"Wait, he had a _gun_ on you?"

"Yes, but he said he didn't want to shoot me. But he would if he had to."

"Oh, that's great."

"DiNozzo."

"Yeah, sorry, boss. I mean, it won't happen again."

"Ziva, go check the situation."

"Yes, Gibbs."

Gibbs turned back to Tony. "No, I mean, I want to know what's going on. Why'd you call us off, and how did you know Tim was there?"

"Oh. Right…" Tony hesitated. "He called me."

"He… _called_ you?"

"Yeah. Put Ziva on caller I.D.. Told me to get her and Dad and go."

"How'd you know the threat was real?"

"…I trusted my gut."

"You mean you trusted Tim."

"We all used to, Gibbs. I don't think he wants to kill us."

"He threatened you father!"

"He also said he didn't want to. Look, if he didn't care, why would he have called me at all? Or told Dad to go?"

He was given an even look, and gave one in return.

"What does _your _gut tell you, Gibbs?"

Gibbs stared at Tony for another moment before reaching in his pocket and searching for his phone. He shouldn't have sent Ziva in until he knew what was going on.

Then there was a deafening explosion. The van's blacked out windows were shattered, and they were thrown against the side as the vehicle flew from the impact.

NCIS

Ziva stepped back in discreetly. While making sure the techs were out, she overheard the conversation in the van over her mic. She slipped into the men's room, just to check.

There, she saw Karisky exiting a stall. Before she could exit, he spotted her. She improvised.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I must have the wrong room."

"It's quite alright. I've done the same dozens of times."

She smiled. _Keep up the act._ "Thank you."

"Listen, Lisa… I had a really good time tonight."

"I am glad. So did I."

"So, maybe we can catch up later?"

"…Yes, I believe so."

"Great. You've got my number."

"I'll use it."

"Alright. See you later, then."

"I will."

As she made her exit, she noticed a blinking red light connected to several wires.

He left a bomb…

She saw that most people were now on the balcony, if not heading for it. It was a nice night.

Now she had a choice.

_Save a life, an undeserving one, full of evil, or leave, and let them die._

_Let your friend kill him, you mean._

_He doesn't deserve to live! He commits crimes for a living!_

_He killed Abby!_

_That's no excuse. Who are you to decide who lives and dies?_

Breathing in deeply, she headed for the balcony.

_I won't warn him._

She was approaching the arch that showed the entrance to the balcony when she heard his voice.

"Hey, Lisa! Wait up!"

She plastered a smile on her face and turned, inwardly cursing, to see him jogging towards her.

He began to speak, only to be interrupted by a blinding white light that overtook them before they even felt the heat.

A/N: **cringes** Sorry! At least I'm back from hiatus! I'm going to be updating on Mondays now, so you don't even have to wait a full week, technically. And yes, I know, it's a short chapter, and the next one won't be much better, I'll warn you now. It'll take a while for me to get my momentum back, but I'm several chapters ahead now, which was the purpose of the hiatus. So, please, LET ME KNOW what you think! Thanks!


	11. Chapter 10

A/N: Hey! Not much to say here, other than thanks for the reviews! There weren't many, but most of them were good. So, enjoy, please! And don't forget to review on your way out!

His head pounded, and he felt sick. He wished someone would stop shaking him. It was _very_ annoying.

"Tony! Tony, wake up, it's your father, for God's sake!"

Gibbs reached out and touched Anthony's arm in a calming gesture.

"DiNozzo!"

Tony's eyes popped open almost immediately, and his hand went to his head. "Whoa…"

"Tony! Thank God, are you alright?"

"…Yeah, Dad, I'm fine."

Tony got up and helped Gibbs with pushing on the door above them. The van was on its side.

The door flew open, and they exited the damaged vehicle to see the building in front of them on fire. The people on the balcony appeared panicked but alive.

They could only hope Ziva had been on the balcony.

Sirens could already be heard in the distance. Tony realized his ears were ringing when they didn't get any louder.

Gibbs ripped part of his jacket off and covered his face with it. Tony followed suit, motioning for his father to stay there. Taking a deep breath, they ran into the burning building.

The techs they had sent in were on their way down the stairs, looking a little banged up but overall okay. Gibbs motioned for them to go.

They eventually reached the third story, where the party had taken place. Tony ran to the still bodies on the floor; there were about five. Gibbs headed for the kitchen.

Tony nearly had a heart attack when he recognized Ziva's motionless form, but, kneeling next to her, he noticed that her eyes were beginning to open. She put her hand over her nose and mouth instinctively, and he gave her the rag that he had used for the smoke. He checked the others, dragging the man and woman who were alive to the fire escape that people began to flood to.

"You O.K.?"

"I am fine." She pointed at the bodies left behind. "They are dead?" "Yeah. Where's Karisky?"

She motioned to the man he had saved. "There. Where is Gibbs?"

"Kitchen."

"Why?"

As if on cue, Gibbs ran from the flames, holding a fire extinguisher. He tossed it to Tony.

"Where-"

"All safe kitchens keep one."

",,,Oh…"

"Four dead chefs. I take it those two…?"

"Yeah."

Gibbs nodded and turned, weaving through the crowd to see who else needed help. Karisky woke up a few moments later, pulling himself to his feet and coughing all the way.

"Lisa… What happened?"

"I don't know, but the building is on fire."

The firemen reached them then, helping civilians down the fire escape to safety and medical attention.

Tony let out a sigh of relief as he left some time later, but his heart was heavy. With so many things on his mind, it was a miracle that, after the medical green light was given and he arrived back at his father's, he fell onto his bed, fully clothed, and slept until well after the sun reached the middle of the sky the next day.

**NCIS**

Everything was going as it should be. Ziva was leaving. Ten seconds to go. Target in place.

And then Karisky left.

"No!"

The bomb went off. The plan was over.

Demetrius Karisky was still alive.

His mind froze, and grief tore him in two. He'd failed her once again.

His heart again broken, he left his hiding place, the need for revenge dominating his thought.

It was all he had left now.

A/N: So, what did you think? Please let me know! Next week, the aftermath!


	12. Chapter 11

A/N: So, Monday couldn't come fast enough this week. Who else thinks tomorrow's episode looks awesome?

Another short chapter, sorry. Next week's is semi-short too, but I promise, after that is an extra-long chapter. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own, but I wish I did. So many things I could do with my own TV show… **rubs hands together maniacally** So anyhoo, It's all Bellisarius, save the plot and my OC's, yadda yadda, please don't sue, I have no money, and I would very much enjoy going to college.

Tony woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and frozen waffles. He made his way downstairs and sat at the kitchen table next to Ziva. His father silently set a cup of coffee down in front of him. They sat, transfixed by the TV. More importantly, the news story on the TV.

"…NYPD are unsure of who actually planted the explosives, but investigators do not believe it was the Middle Eastern terrorist group taking credit. Here behind me you can see some of the damage caused by last night's shocking attack." The camera zoomed in, and they could see police tape and assistants carrying gurneys milling about. "Police are also baffled as to why this building was chosen. It belongs to a private business owner who rents it out for high-society events, such as the party that was taking place when the bomb went off. Eight were killed here, and three more died at the hospital. As far as investigators can tell, no one on the guest list was a target, and the bomb could have been considerably bigger and done much more damage, which begs the question: What would someone stand to gain from-"

Gibbs walked in and shut the TV off.

No one argued.

NCIS

_Ring-ring._

_If it's important, they'll call back. It's a rule._

_Ring-ring._

"Yeah, Gibbs."

"Agent Gibbs? Sergeant Sanders here. You know, the one you agreed to _keep in the loop?"_

"About the killer, not everything we do."

"NCIS told me this morning where you were and what you were doing."

"Why?"

"Because I asked."

"What we came for has nothing to do with you at all!"

"Oh really? Because they told me your agent was in contact with Mr. McGee."

"That's classified. You're not privy."

"I _became_ privy when you agreed to let me in on your case."

"Because you would have been poking around where you shouldn't be if I hadn't!"

"Your reasons were your own, Agent Gibbs. You broke your word."

"We went for Karisky, not McGee. He showed up on his own."

"That's not the point. The point is that it had better not happen again."

"Who do you think you are? You have no right to demand information, or anything else!" Gibbs was furious. "I'll have your badge."

He shut his phone, probably harder than necessary. He wasn't going to take this crap from her.

Not now. He wouldn't.

NCIS

_Swoosh._

Ducky raised his head, but he didn't turn around.

"Mr. Palmer is with his mother in Chicago, Anthony and Ziva are recovering from the blast, and I have yet to meet the young officer from Metro." He turned in his chair. "And you, my friend, are not one for introductions."

Both smiled broadly as Ducky stood and walked towards Gibbs, who was still standing in the doorway to Autopsy.

"Welcome back, Jethro."

"Thanks, Duck."

"Well… there's no body, and no evidence, and I have yet to look at the photos from New York that NYPD so graciously provided me with, so I must assume that you're here for a psychological autopsy." He paused. "The sergeant?"

"No."

Ducky nodded, understanding.

"I see. Well, at this point, he's getting quite frustrated. He's tried to kill this man - what, eleven times? – over the past five years, and every time, his goal has evaded him. You know how he reacts to that. He has a strong feeling of guilt – he portrayed that before he ever… left, when he wouldn't see any of us. It's probably doubled or even tripled since then. He also most likely thinks he's failed her. Every time he kills, he hopes he'll feel better, but he's convinced himself that he won't until Karisky himself is dead. He's clearly obsessed. Killing his enemy is his motivation, and I'd imagine that determination is the only reason he's still alive. He won't let anyone get in his way, and he'll do whatever it takes."

"After Karisky is dead?"

"…Then, I'm afraid, he won't have any reason to continue any longer." He paused. "There will be nothing to keep him here."

The look they shared was grim as the implications of Ducky's words sunk in.

"Thanks, Duck," Gibbs murmured as he turned and left Autopsy.

His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone.

_He tossed the cell phone to Tim, who caught it despite his surprise._

"_Make the ringer work," he commanded._

Ugh. So many memories, attached to everything.

He shook his head and flipped open the device.

"Yeah."

"Hey, boss. Forensics called, they analyzed the remains of the bomb. It was homemade, no DNA or prints, but it had a signature. Not like a handwritten signature, but like a-"

"I know, DiNozzo. Who?"

There was a short pause on the other end of the line.

"Ari Haswari."

A/N: So, what did you think? Please let me know! Thanks! And Happy Valentine's Day everyone!


	13. Chapter 12

A/N: Has anyone else had this random urge to watch Robert Downey Jr. this week? Cause I have, big time. Anyway, here's the next chapter, I went back and looked and it's not as short as I remembered, so Merry February. :) So enjoy!

P.S. A special thanks to Gunner's Dream and Hermione's Shadow. They, along with my sister anakinluvr (who sometimes goes by Silence DoGood) were the only ones to review last week (if I'm wrong, please let me know. Last time I checked they were the only ones).

"_Who?"_

_There was a short pause on the other end of the line._

"_Ari Haswari."_

It was spoken in hushed tones. When Gibbs reached the bullpen, he understood why.

Ziva was pacing – or stalking, rather – back and forth between the desks, looking angry and quite dangerous at the moment. From the look on DiNozzo's face, Tony understood that this was the worst possible time to get on her nerves. When she saw Gibbs, she pounced.

"This is exploitation, Gibbs," she snapped. "How could he do this? I don't even understand how he discovered my brother's signature. And what would be the point of using it?"

"I don't know, but are you going to calm down and find out, or do I have to send you home?"

"I'm tired of surprises, Gibbs," she said curtly, going to her desk nonetheless. "I do not enjoy distrusting someone I thought I knew."

In the corner, behind his desk, Tony could be heard muttering, "Neither do I," to himself while sending a glance Gibbs' way.

Gibbs stared at this Senior Field Agent. "Have you got a problem, DiNozzo?"

Tony looked evenly back. "Not one that can be discussed here."

Gibbs glared a moment before jerking his head towards the elevator.

Once inside, the familiar control was flicked, leaving them suspended with emergency lights and pent-up anger.

"How about here?"

Tony was silent.

"What's botherin' you, DiNozzo?"

"Oh, you know, just a little nervous about the dead man making bombs, the usual stuff."

"…No. No, that's not it."

"Well, I'm sorry!" Tony lashed out. "I guess I'm still a little jittery from the _phone call_ from my former best friend and current arch-nemesis who happens to be on the President's confidential Most Wanted list!"

"He told you to leave."

"Yeah. You know what else he told me? Care to guess?"

Gibbs was silent.

"That's the reason you had me bump up the flight. You knew he'd be there."

"Not the time or place, DiNozzo." Gibbs flipped the switch again, and the elevator started back to life.

That was the last that was said before they exited, back to the raging Ziva.

NCIS

Did forensics say if there was a time stamp on the bomb?"

"They-"

"Agent Gibbs!"

Gibbs repressed a groan. Metro had certainly taught her to be a nuisance well.

"What?"

She put her hands on her hips. "'What'? That's not very respectful, Gibbs. I'd hate to think that I've lost your cooperation on this case."

That was it. Something snapped.

"This is _not_ your case, alright? You're not in charge, and I've had about enough of you!"

"A public enemy committed a crime in Washington D.C., Metro's jurisdiction. I'm here to make sure my police department has a hand in keeping Timothy McGee from killing again."

"Your…? I_ have _had enough of you. Get out of this building. I mean it this time, I _will_ have your badge."

Sanders was visibly angry. "This isn't over, Gibbs," she warned as she stalked to the elevator. As she waited for the doors to open in front of her, Ziva spoke up. "Gibbs, isn't McGee's name supposed to be a secret?"

"Well, yeah, David. So why'd you and DiNozzo tell it to her?"

Tony and Ziva exchanged a glance. "…We didn't, boss."

Realization hit Gibbs immediately. "Neither did I," he mumbled, more to himself than anyone, as he rushed to the closing elevator. He only just caught the doors. Sanders was annoyed.

"What is it now?" She spat.

"How did you know the name?"

"Pardon?"

"How did you know the killer's name? My agents didn't tell you, and I didn't tell you, but you knew."

"I saw the card at the crime scene, Gibbs. I put two and two together. It's not that hard."

Her explanation made sense, but Gibbs wasn't convinced. "That'll work… for now." He knew she understood the warning in his eyes.

Passing the bullpen, he pointed at his agents.

"Look her up. I want to know everything about her."

He returned from the Director's office about five minutes later.

"Talk to me, DiNozzo."

"Boss, we've got a problem. No Jess Sanders works or ever has worked for Metro, but they do know that name. It was one of several aliases they burned last year."

Gibbs cursed inwardly. "Alright, put out a B.O.L.O.."

"Already on it." He motioned to the phone in his hand. As if on cue, someone answered on the other end of the line. "Yes, B.O.L.O. to be put out on suspect, may go by Jess Sanders. African American, mid-twenties, 5'10" or so, short black hair…"

Gibbs tuned Tony out and turned to Ziva. "David."

"Bank account was opened two months ago. Large amounts have been deposited once a week, same time, same place, same amount."

"How much?"

"Weekly deposits are $250,000. Overall there is $2,000,000 in the account so far. The last deposit was yesterday. I called immediately to freeze the account, but all the money was withdrawn three minutes ago by a bank here on the base. There's a B.O.L.O. out on her car, and her apartment is ready to be searched."

"The base?"

"On lockdown, boss." Gibbs turned back to Tony. "Although, with two million at stake, I doubt she'd be here without an alternative escape plan."

"Are we looking for her?"

"Yes. I told security to double-check anyone who tries to leave, and guard the perimeter," Ziva supplied. "It's only a matter of time until we find her."

"Run facial recognition. I want to know who she is. I'll be in Autopsy."

NCIS

It wasn't long before Gibbs was back. As he entered the bullpen, Ziva was just hanging up.

"That was security. One pair of guards found another unconscious but uninjured near the northern gate. The area of fence they were by was demolished, and they found tire tracks." Tony's phone rang, interrupting Ziva. She ignored it. "They said there's no telling how long the others have been unconscious."

"Boss." Gibbs turned to Tony. "The _real_ Metro P.D. just found her car in the parking lot outside her apartment. They haven't looked inside, they said they just saw the plate number."

"Alright. Both of you, with me."

The ride there was short but tense. After clearing the car, Tony called Gibbs over.

"Uh, boss, you may want to see this."

"What is it, DiNozzo?"

"…I found her."

Gibbs came around to see their fake police woman, eyes wide, staring of into nothingness. Her knuckles were white from clutching the wheel in front of her, and there was a neat, round bullethole in her head. On the seat beside her was a card reading TIMOTHY MCGEE.

A/N: What did you think? I didn't have time to proofread this one, so if there are any typos or mistakes, feel free, as usual, to let me know about them. That would be great. :)

Next week: Long chapter of McGee!


	14. Chapter 13

A/N: I know, I just updated Monday, but it took me about a minute after yesterday's episode to decide to post this in celebration (I know, kind of odd to be happy about McGee and post angst about him, but still). I was so happy! He got a date! I'm a hardcore McAbby fan, but I don't think he's going to wait forever. By the way, did you see how jealous she was?

Anyway, I like this chapter. Not to brag, and I think it could have been written better, but I like the premise. I know, I have SO MUCH self esteem as a writer. Tell me what you think, not just of the chapter, but the episode too! Enjoy!

P.S. Thanks to Junee and anakinluvr for reviewing!

Disclaimer: Don't own, just borrowing, yadda yadda, plot and OC's are mine, purely for entertainment, no financial compensation is being received. Can I get on with the story now?

He still remembered the first time he met her. They had hit it off immediately, given their shared interests and her general outgoing nature. She had broken it off after a while. Being a member of Gibbs' team filled up his time, and before he knew it, years had flown by. She had become his best friend.

When they had gotten back together, it was different. She had made up her mind about what she wanted, but mostly it was he who had changed. He had lost weight, matured, put things in perspective.

But some things never changed.

When he had told her he loved her, he meant it. He always meant it. If anything, he grew to love her more.

But now she was gone.

He rubbed his shoulder where it ached, at the point of entry. He felt it often. When the bullet had hit him five years ago, it had torn through tissue and muscle, but mostly nerves.

In a way, that old injury was what kept him going.

He had seen it once or twice before. Attaching guilt, sadness, anger to an object or location kept it from overcoming you so you could complete a job or mission. He had purposely pinned his angst on that injury to stop from killing himself before justice was his.

The hard part was convincing yourself.

In a way, though, that wound was the reason he was in the current situation. Had he not been shot that night, the shooter would have been caught and confessed, and Karisky would have been thrown in jail or killed.

And Abby would be alive.

His mind sent out a silent scream. Sometimes it hurt like hell. Not just the loss, but the physical pain as well. Sometimes alchohol didn't even help. Sometimes all he could do was remember.

On nights like tonight, it was hell. His shoulder painful, his memories vivid.

_He walked cautiously beside her, hand on his weapon, senses on high alert. He wouldn't be accompanying her after the Marshals had her in protective custody, but it was his job to get her to them. But of all the places they could have chosen, it had to be the abandoned pier. At one o'clock in the morning. This was so clich . Fog and everything._

_A soft noise came from behind them, and he spun, drawing his service gun and stepping in front of Abby. The mist and shadows made it impossible to see clearly more than a few hundred yards._

_"Relax, Tim." She touched his shoulder lightly, trying to hide the quaver in her voice. "It was probably just a seagull."_

_"In the middle of the night?" He responded, eyes searching the scene before him warily._

_"Let's just go." He heard but didn't acknowledge her statement. Turning back around, he nudged her forward, walking faster than before until he saw three men in uniforms reading U.S. Marshals._

_"Agent McGee?" The one in the middle asked._

_"Yes." He was relieved._

_"Run." Tim's eyes widened as one of the other two shot the man who had spoken, while the other drew his revolver and aimed for Abby, who looked shocked and confused._

_"Abby, it's a trap, run!" His voice increased in urgency as he spoke. She sprinted back the way they had come. Tim fired at the impostors, and then followed._

_Suddenly, ahead, a man jumped out and grabbed Abby, turning her towards Tim, who skidded to a halt 15 feet away. He put a gun to her head._

_"Now, don't move. Drop the gun and nobody gets hurt."_

_It was a lie. They all knew it. Karisky had paid these men to make sure that Abby didn't make it out alive. However, given the Glock pushed against her temple, he didn't see much of a choice. He slowly began to lower his weapon._

_Then he had an idea. Inwardly blessing Tony for making him watch that Indiana Jones movie, he raised one hand in a peaceful gesture._

_"Alright." He then threw it to the ground, where it reacted as any recently fired gun naturally would._

_It fired right into the man's foot._

_As the man released Abby, Tim moved, snatching the Glock from the man's hand as he went, and grabbed Abby's hand, half-guiding, half-dragging her along until she caught up and ran with him. The two fake Marshals were chasing them still, firing at them as they fled. They turned a corner-_

_-and ran straight into the fourth and hopefully final member of this hit team from hell, a man with arms the width of Tim's head and a torso that, if hit, would probably feel something like cement or steel. His T-shirt reading "Built For Tough" barely fit him and showcased his muscles in a menacing yet somewhat impressive way. Tim and Abby backed away. He followed. Cocking the Glock, Tim prepared to use it._

_Then he heard a gunshot from behind, and his head hit the pier, hard. Then, as the burning pain set in after the shock wore off, he realized he'd been shot._

_He saw Abby's lips open, but all was silent. Only when she started moving in the shape of words he didn't understand did he notice that he couldn't hear the footsteps, the lapping of water, the creak of boats and rotten wood. He couldn't hear anything._

_But he heard the next gunshot just fine. All of a sudden his ears began to work again, but he didn't care. All he knew was horror. It wasn't slow motion like you saw on TV, but the lines blurred as Abby fell to the pier beside him._

_Then came the first of many moments of self-hatred that would continue over time. He had seen their intent, he had seen them pull the trigger, but he couldn't persuade his body to move._

_He couldn't save her life._

_The footsteps faded away, to be replaced what felt like (and could easily have been) hours later by more familiar ones. They called an ambulance for him._

_Abby couldn't be saved, he heard one of them say._

_That wasn't true. He could have saved her._

_He should have saved her._

_He flatlined on the way to the hospital, but they revived him when they got there._

_But he wasn't the same when he woke up. He knew it. The team knew it. Everyone knew it._

_He never allowed anyone in his room to see him. Only the nurse._

_He disappeared a few days later._

_He knew they though he was dead in the gutter somewhere, by his own hand._

_Until he began killing people._

_Yes_, he had decided, time and time again. _It's the injury's fault. Partially the man who shot me, partially the wound, partially the man who shot Abby._

_Mostly Karisky._

_He won't escape me forever_, Tim thought. _I will meet him. And he will die._

A/N: Thoughts? Opinions? Comments? I'll never know them if you don't tell me. Please?

By the way, I know a Glock is a gun, but I don't really know how to spell it. Slightly embarrassing. If I spelled it wrong, please tell me. Any typos or grammatical errors you see, feel free to report. It really helps. Thanks!

Next week: The hunt begins! It'll be a very short chapter next week, unless I can do some serious editing. Sorry!


	15. Chapter 14

A/N: Short chapter, I know. Sorry. What did you think? Two Tim-centric episodes in a row? They spoil us. :) Hey, you won't catch me complaining. 3

I hope you like this chapter. Not much to it, but I had to get their investigation started somehow. And yes, they probably would have discovered this kind of stuff a long time ago, as in, right after he disappeared, but I hadn't thought that far ahead when I began this story. When I'm done with it, and everything's posted, I'll go back and edit little inconsistencies like that, but right now it just confuses me and creates more and bigger flaws in the story, so I'll wait. And also, I know, we don't go over the signature thing. Sorry, you'll just have to wait for that. A while. Anyhoo, tell me what you think! Please?

P.S. It's going to take a long time, but my goal is to respond to everyone who reviews. If I haven't responded to you, hang in there! I love everyone's reviews!

Thanks to DS2010 for reviewing!

The team brought the car back to NCIS and uneasily left it in the less-than-capable hands of the current excuse for a forensic scientist, immediately getting to work. They didn't wait for the Autopsy report; they already knew what it would say.

Cause of death would be puncture of the brain by way of a bullet from a .44 caliber revolver.

No forensic evidence.

No fingerprints.

"How do you wanna do this, boss?" Tony asked as Gibbs entered the room with a fresh cup of coffee.

"Ziva. Dig up everything we have on Karisky. Start from the beginning."

"Yes, Gibbs."

"Tony, you start with McGee. I want to know where he went after he disappeared from the hospital."

"On it."

The rustling of paper and the click-clack of keys, plus the occasional printed document or hushed phone call, were the only sounds until Tony spoke, some time later.

"Got somethin', boss." He continued once he was satisfied that he had Gibbs' attention. "It took a while to get to the hospital records from five years ago, but once I did, I noticed that the bullet in his shoulder was never removed, because the threat was gone. The hospital said he never knew that, at least they didn't tell him. So I'm thinkin', he must have gone to a doctor, right? Maybe a private practice, to see what was goin' on. Turns out he did. Two days after he left the hospital, a home invasion report was filed in Alameda. Doctor Ricks wrote in his statement that he was threatened and held at gunpoint by a man, 6'3" or 6'4", thin, Caucasian, short blonde hair, green eyes. Perfect description. Anyway, the report says the aggressor looked wobbly and was definitely injured, and wanted X-rays, a diagnosis and heavy-duty painkillers. Ricks deemed the bullet harmless in it's current location, suspended in tissue. The gun he was threatened with is the exact same kind as the standard service weapon was at the time. And, the invader took Ricks' wallet, with some cash and a couple of credit cards inside - and a .44 registered for home use."

"That's good work, DiNozzo." Tony straightened and smiled at the rare praise. "Go talk to the doctor, see if he can make a positive I.D.. First thing tomorrow morning."

"Talking to the doctor, boss."

As Tony grabbed his coat, Gibbs turned to Ziva. "You got anything yet?"

"His parents were billionaires, by way of some good investments, and it seems they died under 'mysterious circumstances' when he was sixteen. He has been on his own since then. All their money went to him. Very suspicious, but he was never found guilty, or even charged, with anything. When he was a child, he got into trouble all the time, but there was never enough proof that it was his fault; therefore, all – or most – of his friends went to juvenile detention, whereas he did not. Same story now." She sighed. "He is very gifted at not leaving any evidence."

"Or making it disappear."

"Yes."

"You call him tomorrow, set something up. You're still undercover."

She wrinkled her nose, but would do what she was told when she came back in the morning. She glanced at the window. It really had gotten late.

She sighed, wishing this whole ordeal was over, or, better yet, a horrible dream. But she had adjusted long ago to the fact that it wasn't.

A/N: Tell me what you think, please!


	16. Chapter 15

A/N: So. I'm mad at Gibbs. He didn't say to stay tuned for scenes from their next episode. :P. Also, while I was reading fanfics this week, I realized what a lame name I have. I mean, shialuvr222? Really? Up against epic names like Enthusiastic Fish, Oxymoronic Alliteration and Twisted Rocket Power, mine is, like, really stupid. Does anyone know if I can change it? I digress. About this chapter, it's a semi-long one, but I'm not sure how good it is. Romance is not my strong point, but it seems to be popular. Did you know that love songs are the most popular genre? Anyhow, I don't like this one. When the story's done and all posted I'll probably rewrite this one along with Chapter 6. Tell me what you think, please. More memories!

P.S. Thanks, anakinluvr, for giving me my only review last week.

"_Don't let go. Never let go."_  
"Why would he do that?"

"What?"

"Act like everything's gonna be O.K. when it's not. The ship is sinking."

"Because he doesn't know he's gonna die, Timmy."

"Oh, he dies?" Tim smiled in mock annoyance. "Thanks for spoiling that for me, Abbs."

"Hey, it's not my fault you've never seen this movie."

"Well, I'm not Tony, either. I have a girlfriend."

They laughed even as Abby slapped him lightly across the chest. "Lay off on Tony! He's saved your life!" She said goodnaturedly.

"Yeah, and then turned around and made me his slave because of it."

"You're just as guilty as he is!"

"True, but I wear it better."

She chuckled. "No arguments here."

They laughed again, getting closer as the look turned from playful to searching.

Their lips collided as their eyes closed, and they didn't separate until the need to breathe presented itself., reducing the contact to hovering.

"Marry me, Abby," he breathed.

"Took you long enough."

He swallowed. "Is that a yes?"

"On one condition."

Their eyes opened at the same time.

"I'm listening."

She straightened, pulling away from the closeness of the position, and he mirrored her.

"You have to promise me something."

"What is it?"

"Two things, actually."

"Shoot."

"First, promise me we'll never become the average, boring old married couple."

"I'm pretty sure that's never gonna happen."

"And second, promise me you'll never lie to me."

"Abby, let me explain something."

She started to get up, looking frustrated, when he touched her arm.

"Please, let me finish."

Reluctantly, she sat back down.

"I would never willingly lie to you, unless your life was threatened. Unless it was to protect you. No matter how mad you got at me or how much you hated me, I would do _anything_ to protect you." He gently turned her face towards his and looked sincerely into her eyes. "Anything."

Her face was expressionless, and he searched it for some, any, emotion.

Then she suddenly pulled him towards her and kissed him passionately. Once they were done, he waited.

"I love you," she explained. "And my answer is yes."

He smiled. Batman?"

"Yeah, she laughed, wiping away a tear.

"Tony would be proud," he commented, before their lips crushed together once more, the sinking ship in the background long forgotten.

_*huh*_

He gasped softly, reentering the waking world, shock and pain once again filling the void that Abby had left so suddenly.

His throat closed up, and he swallowed. He had broken his promise, he had long ago realized. He had done what Jack had done.

He had told her it would be alright, and then, it hadn't been.

He glanced at the clock. 2:50.

His heart wrenched as he came to a rather sudden and painful conclusion.

Today… today would have been his anniversary.

He stood, grabbing his coat and .44, and left the motel room, not knowing where he was going, only that he was, for once, glad Abby wasn't here.

He would have hated for her to see him like this.

NCIS

Tony entered the bullpen the next morning to hear a very flirty Ziva on the phone, giggling and whispering. He momentarily flashed back to their undercover time years ago.

Shaking it from his head, he rounded his desk as she ended the call.

"Alright, I will. Yes. I will see you then. Okay… Bye."

She hung up and looked briefly at him.

"Tony? I thought you were going to talk to Dr. Ricks in Alameda."

"I just stopped by to get my gear, I forgot it last night… Who was that, on the phone, just now?"

"Why? Are you jealous?" She grinned.

"It depends. Was that work or play?"

She sighed and folded her hands on her desk in front of her.

"That was work. Gibbs wanted me to set up a meeting with Karisky today."

"Oh. Then no, I'm not jealous." He flashed her a smile and left.

Her desk phone rang, and she answered quickly.

"Agent David."

"Yes, Agent David, this is Cynthia. Agent Gibbs isn't answering his phone, so if you see him, could you tell him the Director wants him in MTAC?"

"Yes, I will."

"Great. Thank you."

She resumed her work, digging up everything she could on Karisky. Gibbs entered not long after. Without looking up from her work, she informed him, "Director wants you in MTAC." He silently left as her desk phone rang again.

"Cynthia, he just left for M-"

"_Lisa? I wonder where the inspiration for that came from?"_

Shock coursed through her body. "Ti- McGee?"

"Well, at least you said something. Tony was speechless."

It seemed natural, so it just slipped out. "Tony? Speechless? I would pay to see that." She instantly reprimanded herself. He was a murderer and a criminal.

And a friend.

She pursed her lips. _Stop being so casual._ "…McGee…"

"I'm sorry I used your brother's bomb, Ziva."

She suppressed a sigh. "Why did you call, Tim?"

"Tell Gibbs to check the gift he gave me."

Beeeeeep.

A/N: What did you think? Tell me, please. I'm not psychic.


	17. Chapter 16

A/N: So, I just found out that we don't have a new episode tomorrow night. That sucks. In a major way. And just as I was getting worried about this story (I only had this chapter and the next one, since I haven't written for it in a while), I had a flash of inspiration and I think I'll probably have another two or three chapters done by the time I go to bed tonight. Tell me if you like this one!

Thanks to anakinluvr, Hermione's Shadow and Junee for reviewing!

Actually, I wanted to especially thank you, Junee. Every time you review, you tell me you love the story, and I want to thank you for that. That REALLY means a lot to me. And when you told me it made you cry, I felt ecstatic and horrible at the same time. I mean, it's a sad story, so I guess crying people are good, but I felt bad for feeling good and for what I'm doing to the poor team. Thank you SO MUCH!

P.S. I referenced an episode in this chapter, but I can't for the life of me remember which one it is. And since I couldn't remember, I couldn't look it up and find out exactly what they said. So I quoted the scene from memory. If someone could tell me which episode it is, that would be great. I'd look it up and fix the chapter. Thanks!

Disclaimer: Don't own, just borrowing, yadda yadda, plot and OC's are mine, purely for entertainment, no financial compensation is being received. Can I get on with the story now?

Gibbs descended the short steps and sat next to Vance, taking a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness in contrast to the large screen on the wall.

"I hear you wanted me."

"Normally I'd wait, but you needed to see this." He nodded to the tech. "This video was taken yesterday in an airport in Rio. It took a while, but facial recognition identified him."

The screen showed a pixellated but recognizable video of the familiar face glancing up at the camera. He was dressed all in black with a trenchcoat and carried a messenger bag on one shoulder and a bulkier bag in his hand. His other hand was free, and a moment later he used it to send a rather rude message that you didn't need sign language to translate.

Gibbs shook his head. What had happened to the timid, stuttering boy he'd met in Norfolk all those years ago?

"As you can see, he's not exactly on friendly terms right now."

Gibbs stood and began to leave. "He could have avoided that camera if he wanted. He let us see him on purpose."

"I know. Jethro, I'm not done."

Gibbs turned around as Vance cued the tech again. The screen was filled once more, this time with the image of a burning field. The fire spelled out _Timothy McGee._

"That's a National Park south of Rio. He used gasoline to spell out his name, and then he lit it up like a Christmas tree. NCIS is repaying the Government of Brazil. We don't know why he did it."

The tech turned. "There's a video call for you from SecNav, sir."

Suddenly Ziva burst in, breathless.

"Gibbs!"

NCIS

"Yes, I remember him. Scared the devil out of me when he rushed in here with a pistol and all that. Baffled me, too. I mean, he was still wearing a hospital band on his wrist. Why didn't he just stay there?"

"He was too busy ruining his life," Tony muttered.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing. Given your accent, I'd assume you're not from around here?"

"No. Manchester. I went to college in New York, and I fell in love with the country. I must say, I'm surprised how long it took for more than the local police to ask me about this."

"Yes, well, Doctor Ricks, we may have linked the man to another ongoing investigation, and we just found out about your little encounter. Now, if I showed you a picture of your attacker, do you think you could I.D. him?"

"Absolutely."

"Alright. Great." He reached into his pocket and yanked out his phone, pulling up a picture from almost seven years ago. "It's a little old, but… Is this the guy?"

Ricks leaned in closer. "Yes. Definitely."

"Okay. Well, thank you for your help."

"Any day, Copper." He shook Tony's hand. "And if you need anything else, don't hesitate to call."

"We won't." As he made his way to his car, his cell phone vibrated. He glanced down at caller I.D..

"Yeah, what's up, Ziva?"

"_Tony, come back, now. We need your help."_

NCIS

"What exactly did he say?"

"Just to tell you to check the gift you gave him."

"That's all he said? Start from the beginning."

"I thought it was Cynthia. He said the name Lisa was unoriginal. Then I said his name, and he said that Tony had been speechless…"

"…And?"

She looked ashamed. "And I said I would have paid to see it." She raised a hand. "I know, Gibbs. I should not have. It just reminded me of when we were a team, and…"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Ziva."

_Ding._

"I'm back! What'd I miss?"

"Not much. We cannot figure out what he was talking about."

An hour of fruitless searching and scouring their minds later, Tony threw his hands up in the air dramatically, glancing, frustrated, at Tim's old desk. Everything was as he'd left it. As always, memories flooded through his mind, sometimes attached to certain items.

The computer. How many times had he watched Tim trace a call from there?

The keyboard. He'd superglued it so many times.

The bottle of expired migraine medicine. He supposed intelligence didn't come without a price.

Then a thought hit him. _Did Gibbs give him anything on the desk?_

He searched the items with his memory, unaware Ziva was watching him. Drawing a blank.

Until…

The calendar.

He remembered now.

"_Nice calendar, McGee!"_

"_Tony, give that back!" Tim snatched it from his hands. "It was a gift."_

"_From who, your wet nurse?" He made a face._

"_No, DiNozzo. Tony froze at the sound of Gibbs' voice behind him, the smile disappearing from his face. "From me."_

"_You know, that's a nice calendar, boss."_

"It's the calendar!"

He stood and strode over to Tim's desk, picking up the calendar. Gibbs glanced up as Tony handed it to him. Gibbs flipped to the day's date. July third.

A note was written neatly in the slot. He recognized the handwriting.

_Try checking your own calendar, Gibbs – third of July, 2011._

He didn't have to check it. Realization kicked in immediately. He swore.

"It's their anniversary."

"What?" Tony looked alarmed and confused. Gibbs took the stairs three at a time, commanding, "Find out how he got in here!"

He burst into the Director's office, ignoring Cynthia's warning.

"I know why he did it, Leon."

Only then did he notice his tired looking friend.

"Hi, Jethro. I'm here to take your case."

"…Fornell?"

A/N: MWA-HAHAHAHA! I know, I'm evil, aren't I? Don't worry, it's only a week. MWAHA. Once again, if you know the name of the episode I referenced, please tell me. I couldn't find it, so I quoted it from memory, and if I know the name of the episode, I can look it up and put exact quotes. I like being accurate. I even looked it up; south of Rio is Parque Nacional da Tijuca, meaning Tijuca National Park. Try not to hate me too much for that cliff I left you hanging off of, and please review.


	18. Chapter 17

A/N: So, I'm super excited that we actually have an episode tomorrow night, but really? Vance-centric? That'll be, like, the sixth one this season. Sorry. Anyhoo, short chapter this week. Pretty much just getting you past the cliff and setting up for neext week, but hey, it's better than nothing. This is the last chapter I have fully prepared, so now I'm back to writing as much as possible during the week to scratch out a chapter, which I don't like, because they generally aren't the best quality when I do that. At least I have most of the next one done. I digress. Enjoy, and tell me what you think!

Thanks to anakinluvr and danielle007! Danielle, I love how you just reviewed all the chapters at once.

"What are you doing here, Tobias?"

"I'm sorry, Jethro. I'm taking your case. Sound familiar?"

Gibbs shifted his verging-on-anger look to Vance.

"Two long-term cases on top of regular work is too much for one team. I called in some reinforcements."

"Too much for a normal team. Not for mine."

Vance glanced at Fornell. "May I have a moment with Agent Gibbs, please?" It wasn't a request. Fornell left.

Once the door closed, Vance looked at Gibbs. "This wasn't my idea, Gibbs. I tried to stop it, in fact. But there is no ignoring a direct order from SecNav."

"Why does he have a problem?'

"He doesn't trust you with full control of the situation with the emotional attachments involved. He wants someone else to have a hand in it. It's one case or the other, Karisky or McGee. Frankly, he's not crazy about you having either. I figured, you just got the Karisky case, so you'd want it."

"And Fornell?"

"I thought it might appease SecNav to have the case in another agency. Plus, the cases go hand in hand, and you two seem to be able to stay civil."

The smile was familiar to them both.

"Besides, Gibbs, he doesn't have full control over it either. You share the case."

Vance called Fornell back in, and he studied Gibbs for any signs of anger. When he found none, he turned to listen to Vance.

"Statistically, This should work out fine. You'll both cooperate with each other. No secrets. SecNav is satisfied. Now, Gibbs, you said you had something?"

"I know why he did it."

"I'm listening."

In response, Gibbs strode over to the wall and jabbed a finger at the date. Fornell spoke.

"July third? That's today, what about it?"

"It's their anniversary."

This time it was Vance. Gibbs raised an eyebrow in surprise. Vance looked amused.

"They aren't _just_ agents to me, Gibbs." He turned. "He didn't go to Rio to burn a field. Why is he there?"

"Maybe there's someone there he wants to kill," suggested Fornell.

"Karisky has no known ties to South America." Gibbs stopped and considered. "Although he was in Brazil a week ago…"

Vance smiled. "Find out what he was doing there. Although, if he were there to kill someone, we'll know soon enough."

NCIS

"DiNozzo! You find out where he was after the doctor's?"

"Not yet, boss, but I have a theory on that."

"Care to share, DiNutso?"

Fornell came up behind Gibbs. Tony looked on quizzically.

"Don't ask. Continue."

"We don't know where he was, but I was thinkin' that if we went to the person who knnows him best, she may have seen him. He could have gone to her."

"Yeah, but Abby's dead. How's he gonna get to her?" Fornell asked.

"He is not talking about Abby," Ziva put in.

"Then who's he talking about?" He looked at Gibbs, who smiled.

"She's known him longer than any of us, boss," Tony goaded, though the thought of her put a bad taste in his mouth.

"Find her."

"On it, boss."

A/N: I know, now you're wondering who "she" is. Well, "she" is a OC I created for a story I'm working on, my first happy story (yay!), a complete AR story involving Tim, "her" and a lot of law breaking. It's my first attempt at a non-angsty fic, and I don't know when it will be up, what the name will be or how much I'll allow you to find out when "she" makes her cameo. So please, tell me what you think! Thanks!


	19. Chapter 18

A/N: SO sorry the update is late this week, I got grounded. But, I'm back! So here we go. By the way, who else LOVED the episode last night? I thought the part about Diane getting her finger shut in a door was funny… Anyhoo. Please review!

This chapter is dedicated to TwistedRocketPower for dedicating a chapter of her story, Buried, to me. :) Thanks! And guys, if you haven't heard of her before, please head on over to her page: .net/u/2272753/ and read her stuff. I'd recommend a story, but they're all great! So thanks!

Thanks to beverlie4055 for reviewing!

And by the way… OMG it's a line,**, **you'll be my pinapple, not to be overly critical and lar lar are all the same person. They – or she, actually – is my best friend IRL, but she doesn't have an account. All those names are inside jokes.

Fornell hung casually around the half-wall by Ziva's desk, watching she and Tony work as Gibbs left for coffee. Eventually he spoke.

"You know, I was sad to hear about McGee, a few years ago."

"We all were." Tony didn't look up from his work.

"And then, out of the blue, I get a call from your Director. He reads me in, and I find out he's not innocent and he's not dead."

Tony hid behind a mask of indifference. "And?"

"Well, did you know he was a narcissistic mass murderer when you worked together?"

"He wasn't. People change."

"Not that much."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

Fornell shrugged, not looking for a debate. Gibbs reentered the room. Ziva spoke first.

"Facial recognition came back on our artificial colleague from Metro."

"It's fake, Ziva."

She narrowed her eyes at Tony. "Whatever. She was a Heidi Canton, missing persons case since 2002. She was twelve at the time. They suspected abduction, but it appears she ran away. Until she was hired by Karisky to keep an eye on our investigation, she went by Heidi Green, who is wanted for drug running, evasion of police and murder. She had a reputation as a gun for hire."

"You call the family?"

"Yes. The body will be released to them soon."

Gibbs turned. "You got anything, DiNozzo? Find her?"

"Yeah. I traced her movements, starting with when we met her eight years ago. I almost lost the trail in Denver, not that she left many clues anyway, but point is, I think I found her." Fornell looked on in interest. Nothing had been found on any point of the investigation since he had joined it three days ago.

"She bought a plane ticket – under a fake name, of course – four months ago. Guess where?"

"Rio de Janiero."

"Yup. One way ticket, boss."

"Pack your bags. Your and Ziva's plane leaves early."

Tony grimaced. "You know, boss, Ziva can probably handle herself in Rio. It's really a waste of taxpayer money to buy a ticket for me, and I can be of more use here…" He trailed off as Gibbs fixed him with 'the glare.' He sighed.

"Packing a bag, boss."

_Of all the people… Why her?_

"Are you afraid of her, Tony?" Ziva grinned mischievously.

"Utterly and completely."

"Why don't you bring a gun, DiNutso?"

"Didn't work the first time."

"Are you going to take mercy on me?"

Ziva glanced up at the question. "In what way?"

"I've been asking since she was first mentioned," Fornell stated. "Who is she?"

Now it was Ziva's turn to sigh. "She goes by Rebecca Muse. She's wanted for just about everything, and not just in this country. She is a mercenary. Other than his family, she has known McGee the longest."

"I can't see McGee befriending someone like that."

Tony mumbled, "It's a long story."

"And you need her because…?"

"If he needed something, he _may_ have gone to her for help," Ziva clarified. "And she may know where to find him."

"I see. If she's so good, how do you know her name?"

"We don't. Only four people ever knew her real name, and three of them are dead."

"Do we know who the other one is?"

"Oh, yes," Ziva said calmly, turning back to her work. "McGee."

NCIS

Sarah sat casually in the café as she did twice a week, waiting. Tony had texted her, said he's be almost an hour late. That gave her time to think, a novelty these days. Time to think about her dead brother.

She knew, of course, that he wasn't really dead. But in times when facing reality wasn't a necessity, she preferred to pretend the agency's story was true.

She wasn't sure if she would rather him be alive and different, than dead and at peace. No matter how much she told herself it would be better, she couldn't wish him dead. Not with a clear conscience.

_Not that your conscience is clear, anyway._

The guilt. Crushing, lurking guilt. She had lain awake more than once because of it.

She didn't blame herself for her brother's warped sense of justice; it wasn't that at all. And it wasn't for pretending, sometimes wishing, he was dead.

When Gibbs came to her and told her what had happened, she had asked him to let her tell her parents, and he agreed.

And then she had lied. Told them he was dead, and Abby had gone. Just like she told everyone.

She tried to justify it to herself. To think, her mother couldn't take it. That her father would try to find him. That they would be heartbroken. But she knew the truth. Her mother was one of the strongest people she knew. She _would_ be heartbroken, but she would be alright. And her father – her father was a retired Navy commander.

He had never understood Tim. She didn't think that he ever really cared about his son. They would be able to take it.

And she had lied to them.

No one on the team knew. Of all of them, she was closest to Tony, him feeling more accessible and having been Tim's best friend. She wanted to tell him, badly, but every time she tried, she couldn't. It just wouldn't come out.

Gazing out the window, she began to consider her brother. She and Tim had been close, despite the nine year age difference. Growing up, he had never hesitated to take care of her, to show her the love her father was never there to give, or to play with her when her mother was too busy. Unlike most boys, he wasn't ashamed of his little sister, and for that, she had always been grateful.

As she had grown older, she would come to him with her problems. He was a constant rock, always there for support, even when his own world was falling apart. Once, when her first real boyfriend had dumped her for another girl, he had come home to hold her as she cried, missing a job interview to do it. Soon, they began to depend on each other. He even missed a firearms proficiency test to help her study for college exams. All in all, though they teased and taunted each other, they were inseparable. She and Abby even became close.

_That's when I lost them both._

Yes. True, he was still alive. But he would either accomplish his goal and kill himself – Ducky had told her about it a couple of days ago, when they last talked – or he would be shot down fighting. He wasn't giving up; he had never been a quitter. Either way, she would most likely never see him alive again.

That had been the hardest to accept.

Motion beside her brought her back to the present. Tony was now seated across from her, staring at her with a slightly concerned look on his face.

"Are you O.K.? I said your name, like, four times."

"Sorry, Tony. Some of us are capable of intelligent thought." He was used to her sarcasm. She glanced at her watch. "You're fifteen minutes early."

"Yeah, Gibbs let me go sooner than I expected. He studied her face. "Is that a bad thing?"

She looked wistfully out the window. "No…no, I was just enjoying the peace and quiet. Doesn't happen much anymore, ya know?"

"I could leave…"

"No, no, you're fine." She leaned forward onto her elbows. "So, what did you want to talk about so badly?"

"What makes you think-"

"Because it's Wednesday, and we only meet on Saturdays and Tuesdays. Plus, I know that you've been working nonstop since the day you got back from D.C.."

His eyes softened. "You remind me so much of your brother."

She laughed. "What? We're- we _were_ nothing alike!"

Tony smiled. "You may have had your differences, but I can tell you three things from this conversation alone that he could have done himself."

She put her fist under her chin. "Okay."

"First: the sarcasm. 'Some of us are capable of intelligent thought'? Come on!" She didn't miss the sorrow he tried to hide as he spoke. She knew Tony missed him. "Second, the longer I knew him, the more observant he got. I once told Ziva that his brain was like a computer. Well, it was. Taking in all the facts, calculating, reaching a solution."

"And third?"

He lowered his voice a bit, becoming slightly more serious. "He used to stare off into space just like that when he was thinking."

Sarah considered a moment. "Two things. One, you changed the subject, and two, the thinking wasn't technically a part of the conversation."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I was debating whether or not to tell you this, but I guess it's a yes. I know it's not your favorite subject, but…"

"Just tell me, Tony."

"Tomorrow morning, Ziva and I are going to see _her_."

"Why do you tell me every time something happens concerning her?"

"Because you know her, and-"

"No, Tony, honestly, I don't. Tim did." She was angry. "They met when I was seven, alright? I don't even remember her being in our house. I met her once when I was twenty-six, and that was it."

He looked at her intently. "That was more than frustration, Sarah. There's something you aren't telling me." He paused. "Did she do something to you?"

Sarah stood, grabbing her purse, and stormed out, calling behind her, "Stay away from her, Tony. She's dangerous."

A/N: So, what did you think? Not much of a cliffhanger there, I know. Catch the reference? Tell me which episode it's from (I actually know this time) and get the next chapter dedicated to you! And PLEASE review!


	20. Chapter 19

A/N: *cringes* I'M SORRY! The past month, I've been plagued by the worst disease of all: Writer's Block. I would still have it if an amazing friend of mine hadn't given me a little push to continue. THANKS! Here's the link to her deviantArt, check it out, she's really good: .com/ . Also, this was supposed to be up Monday, but the website wouldn't let me upload. Sorry. :(

Anyhoo, I can't keep doing this. Don't get me wrong, I'm NOT giving up the story, but the week-to-week scramble to get out a good chapter isn't working. I took a short hiatus before, but I cut it off prematurely because I was so impatient. You guys may have been happy with me for coming back, but it really wasn't fair to do it. Therefore, hate me as you will, I'm going for the second and hopefully last hiatus, going with the schedule of the show; meaning I'll stop next week, and come back when Season Nine begins. The only thing that will bring me back before the ninth season is if I finish the story completely. I'M SORRY!

I will, however, still upload short stories, oneshots and chapters of Recovery as they come to me, and, if I can get a few chapters of it done, I will hopefully begin my aforementioned non-canon story featuring Tim and an OC that you will meet next week in her cameo. It isn't a romance, it's a Humor/Adventure theme. Completely ridiculous and hopefully fun to read. Anyway, I'll stop holding you up with this abnormally-long Author's note once I finish saying: HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

*NCIS*

Tony descended the more than familiar stairs and made his way over to the worktable, leaning against it and pouring bourbon into a mason jar. Instantly a memory pushed to the surface of his consciousness.

_Leaning against the table, he sipped from the jar as the door at the top of the stairs closed behind Gibbs._

"_You asked her to marry you?"_

_Tim made a face. "Yes, and now I'm awaiting my punishment."_

_He nodded. "Yep, you've done it this time. No one can get Gibbs angry faster than you these days."_

"_He's _really_ mad at me, isn't he? I mean, I'm getting married – which, to him, is a problem in itself – to his favorite forensic scientist. He loves her enough, they might be able to revive her on the way to the hospital. They'll just send me straight to the morgue."_

_Tony laughed. Tim looked sullen._

"_So why'd you come? To say 'I told you so'?"_

"_No. Actually, I came to back you up."_

_Tim checked his expression to see if he was serious._

"…_Thanks, Tony. That means a lot."_

_They stared ahead, though at nothing in particular, jars clinking together in a silent toast no one else understood._

"DiNozzo."

The gruff voice brought him back to the present. He cleared his mind and turned his attention back to the purpose of his visit. Gibbs waited expectantly.

"You know," Tony began, "When I got that phone call in New York, I was pretty surprised. And, honestly, a little scared. But then he wasn't making any sense… He, uh, he told me he was talkin' to you in here. And I'm thinkin', that can't be right. But later, I was thinking about and… it makes sense. I mean, you had us switch our flight, and you wouldn't tell us why…" He looked up, emotion apparent on his face. "Why didn't you tell me, Gibbs? I know you're not the most talkative person, but still…"

"For some things, there's never a right time."

"For some things, there doesn't have to be."

"What did you want me to say?"

"The truth. Did you talk to him?"

Gibbs didn't have to answer. The look on his face told Tony everything he needed to know.

"Well, next time, have the common decency to let me know."

"This isn't exactly easy, DiNozzo."

"It's not easy for any of us. Did you ever wonder what _he_ feels like?"

With that, Tony left Gibbs thinking about their conversation, unable to sleep.

*NCIS*

"Well, that sucked."

"I have had worse flights."

"Of _course_ you have."

"What does she go by?"

"Maria Estavez, works for a maidservice company."

"What's the address?"

She listened intently, then nodded once. "It's not far, we can walk."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Just how well do you know Rio?"

"I was stationed here for eight months once."

"And what did you do here, all alone, for eight months?"

"I am not allowed to talk about it." She smiled teasingly. "And I was not alone."

She lead him through the maze of a city, down side streets and alleys until they reached a wide, bustling road filled with middle-aged women and orphaned teenagers.

"There."

She pointed to a worn but cheerful one-story building with faded paint and a welcoming aura. The same theme followed it inside to a beat-up but clean main room, where a friendly receptionist waited. Her name tag read "Gloria."

"Habla Inglais?"

"Brazilians speak Portuguese, Tony."

"Well, I don't speak Portuguese."

"I do."

"Of course you do."

"Um… that's quite alright, I speak English, Portuguese _and _Spanish," Gloria ventured, not quite aware which of them to reassure. "Now, how can I help you today? Do you need a maid?"

"No, ma'am. We were wondering, does a woman named Maria Estavez work for you?"

"Yes," she said, bewildered.

"May we talk to her, please?"

"My apologies, sir. She left twenty minutes ago. I'll see if I can find her address, though."

Gloria turned and entered the office, and the door swung shut behind her.

*NCIS*

Once the door was shut, Gloria scrambled for the phone, dialing the number she had memorized.

"Maria? There are two people here looking for you, an American man and a woman, Middle Eastern, I think. I said I'd see if- yes. Okay, I'll give them your address. No, I will not say a word. Okay. Thank you, Maria. Adios."

A/N: What did you think? Let me know, PLEASE! I'm not so proud that I won't grovel and beg for you to review. *grovels* *begs* While I love Ziva, I'm so sick of the only people they ever talk about being she, Gibbs and Tony. TIM IS A MAIN CHARACTER TOO! Have you noticed how they gave us two Tim-centric episodes and then the rest of the season he's been sitting in the background with MAYBE 15, 20 lines per episode? IT SUCKS. Forgive my little rant there. And what did you think of mystery woman? Well, the mystery AROUND mystery woman, I guess, since you haven't even met her yet. I think I'm done rambling now. Tally ho!


	21. Chapter 20

A/N: So, here it is. The last chapter until (A) I finish the story, or (B) Season 9 begins. Tomorrow is the last episode of the season, which simultaneously thrills and kills me. DOESN'T IT LOOK AWESOME? Oh, and yes, the link to my friend's page didn't work last week, but go to and look up Flurrin. She's really great. :)

Without further ado, here it is; the cameo that probably nobody has been anxiously awaiting. Enjoy! And PLEASE REVIEW!

P.S. You know how they said earlier in the story that Tim was one of four ever to know "her" real name, and he's the only one alive? Hold on to that in this chapter ;)

Disclaimer: Please don't sue me, because I don't have any money. It all belongs to Bellisarius anyway.

*NCIS*

Tony stilled his impatiently tapping foot as Gloria came out of the office, smiling politely.

"I've got it." She handed Ziva a slip of paper with the street name and building number printed neatly on it. "I'm sorry it took so long. We recently reorganized our filing system."

They thanked her and left, waiting to cross the street.

"There is something wrong about that woman. She knew more than she would have us believe."

"Do you want to go back?" Tony asked.

"No. It would just draw attention to ourselves." She waved the note with the address in the air.

"We will play her game."

*NCIS*

The knock resounded through the house, and she smiled, knowing who it was. Still, years of close calls compelled her to send a precautionary glance out the window. Once satisfied, she opened the door and waved them inside, enjoying Tony's futile efforts to hide his nervousness. Once the door was closed, she smiled mischeviously at them.

She was a slim woman, not quite tall, but not short either. Her eyes – her _natural_ eyes – were the sea blue before them now, and her undyed hair, Tim told them once, was a shade of red. Her tools of disguise included several different colors of contact lenses, many hair dyes, such as the black she was using now, a few false noses and a well-stocked make-up cabinet.

"Agent David. Tony."

"You were expecting us." It wasn't a question.

"Well, you know, in my line of work, it's beneficial to know things, like when old friends are coming to visit." She glanced at Ziva. "Surely you must be able to appreciate that."

"We are not your friends."

"Maybe I wasn't talking about you."

"When was he here?"

"Whoever do you mean?"

"You know precisely who." Ziva gritted her teeth.

"Don't play that game, Rebecca." Tony spoke for the first time. "When was he here?"

72 HOURS EARLIER

Tim walked leisurely along in the heat of the day. Although he was in the shade, it was oppressive. The sidewalk was worn and cracked. He leaned back against the wall. This was Rio de Janiero.

A woman approached, and he stared ahead coolly.

"Can I help you, Señor?" she asked as she opened the door to her small home. He shook his head, and she shrugged, entering. He took her by surprise when he pushed her into the house and stepped in behind her, shutting the door quickly and quietly.

"Señor!" Her eyes were huge.

He yanked off his sunglasses. "Horrible accent, Celia."

"Fools the locals." She grinned, the fake fear leaving her face.

"Did you actually dye your hair this time?"

"Yeah, I didn't want to relive the Cape Fear incident."

He sighed. "Do you know how many times I risked my job, my marriage and, quite literally, my _life,_ for you? I lied, cheat, stole, begged and seriously maimed a man to keep _you_ alive."

"I didn't tell you to take his eye out."

"He came after you with a machete! What was I supposed to do?"

"I've known you for thirty years, Timothy McGee, and you haven't changed a bit. Uptight as ever."

"I'm only uptight around you. Until I met Tony DiNozzo, you were the only one who could make me break the law."

She smiled, looking him up and down." I knew you weren't dead. _Madre de Dios,_ you look terrible."

"Thanks a lot."

The smile slowly fell from her face, replaced by concern. "I know you, Tim, better than most people. What happened?"

He shook his head and ignored her question, becoming businesslike in manner.

"I need your help. That's why I'm here."

"Imagine that."

"What, the fact that _I_ need help instead of you?" He sighed, muttering something about breaking old habits. "Look, I don't know what you're pulling here in Rio, and I don't really want to. I need a new weapon, a long range, and I want you to tell me where I can get one. Private, someone who could keep their mouth shut if they got caught."

"What makes you think that I would know?"

His face darkened. "Don't toy with me, Celia. Don't forget, I know you too. You have contacts."

Now it was her turn to sigh. She turned and fished around in her purse until she found the business card she was looking for. "Newport, in Los Angeles. Rough side of town." She smirked.

"What?"

"I hope you don't want this transaction to be discreet. You're going to attract a lot of attention."

"I'm okay with that." He looked at the card she handed him.

"Be careful, okay? You don't want to mess around with the kind of people they have there."

"I can take care of myself."

"This isn't like you."

He looked up at the edge in her voice. "I've never been _completely_ helpless."

"Not that. You've never seeked me out before, Tim, and definitely not to do something illegal. I _know_ something's up, and I don't know why you won't tell me what." She took a step closer to him. "Don't you trust me?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Okay, I guess I deserve that."

"I should go. If anyone comes asking about me, _especially_ Tony, Ziva or Gibbs, I wasn't here."

"Hey!" She called sharply as he turned to go. "We aren't done here!"

"Yes, we are."

"Why are you talking like you're not a cop?"

"Because I'm not anymore."

Her eyes widened. "Now, what could possibly make _you_ quit? You loved that job!"

"Celia…"

"Tim, I mean it. Be careful. You don't want to get yourself killed."

"Not yet," he muttered.

Her jaw dropped. "What did you say?"

"I have something to do first, before I die."

"What the - "

"Goodbye," he said pointedly, turning for the door.

She caught his arm. "Hey…"

"What?"

"…You kind of sound like I'm never going to see you again."

He hesitated. "You probably won't."

She frowned. "Then take care, Tim."

He opened the door, but paused, looking down.

"Forget about me, Celia."

He put on his sunglasses and stepped out into the Rio sunshine.

NOW

She hesitated. "I have to go. Places to be." Tony blocked her way, and she fixed him with an icy blue stare.

"Excuse me."

"Answer the question."

She sighed impatiently before conceding. "I won't tell you when he was here or where he was going, but I will tell you this: Things might seem bad now, but a storm is coming, if you'll pardon the cliché. It's bigger, and infinitely more deadly." She looked them both in the eyes to show them how serious she was. "He won't stop until he succeeds. And I'm telling you this because I'm worried about him; he's picking up a long range weapon."

She brushed past Tony and opened the door. "Now, if you don't mind."

Unable to do anything else, Tony and Ziva filed out. She locked the door and nodded to them, once again picking up the native accent. "Agents DiNozzo, David."

She turned and walked away, leaving them to ponder her words in the afternoon sunlight.

A/N: You thought I was going to give you a cliffhanger, didn't you? Oh, I wish I could have. *wist* What did you think? I'd love to know, you know I would. Go on, click that little button that says "Review"… It's not that hard, that's it…


	22. Chapter 21

A/N: I'M BACK! Sorry, I'm really excited. I finished the story yesterday :D I know, it's really short, but hey, you gotta start back somewhere. The next chapter will be longer, I promise. :)

Kudos to my awesome new beta! You rock! (You know who you are :) )

By the way, no racial discrimination is intended in this chapter. I didn't mean to offend anyone, so please don't be upset.

*NCIS*

Gibbs had stood in MTAC countless times over the years, seen all kinds of things there, but now he stared in shock. Vance waited for him to speak.

"I passed him in the hallway…"

"So did I. I'm the one who cleared him with security."

"Boss!"

Both Gibbs and Vance turned as Tony and Ziva came down the steps. Gibbs spoke first.

"Did you find her?"

"Unfortunately," Ziva replied.

"What did she say?"

"She said it is going to get worse, and that he is getting a long-range weapon. She would not tell us anything else."

Tony looked curiously up at the image on the plasma. "What's this?"

"This is how he got into NCIS," Vance said glumly.

It took a moment for surprise to register on Tony's face, but they didn't need it to guess what he was feeling. They all felt it.

The image on the screen was surveillance video from the bullpen. It was obvious who it was from the first glance. He was dressed as a repairman, complete with toolbox and baseball cap, but the height, skin tone and profile gave away his identity. He nonchalantly reached over his desk and scribbled a note on the calendar. The note to Gibbs.

Watching it filled Gibbs with anger. He _had_ passed Tim in the hallway. He had been leaning up into the ventilation system, and Gibbs had just walked by without a second glance. True, his face was hidden, but he felt responsible. He should have known.

He knew now. Now that it was too late to do anything about it.

*NCIS*

It wasn't hard to find the rougher side of Los Angeles. He made no effort to conceal himself. There was no need. The address on the business card was a small one-story building, once used as a school. It was now covered in graffiti and dust, and surrounded by several people. Some stood, some lounged on the grass, and some were apparently high: about a third of the group was entirely sober. Ethnicities ranged from Asian to Native American. All of them looked like they would enjoy seeing him shot.

He would admit, he was an unusual sight for the men before him. They were tan and worn-looking; he was pale as they come, dressed in a suit like he may have worn to work in years past. To them, he must have looked like a tourist who got on the wrong bus.

A group of five or six men stood in his way as he approached, lead by a Hispanic with a mocking face.

"You lost?"

"Nope." He kept his pace even.

"I think you are."

"I don't."

The leader motioned to a man on his left, who moved forward eagerly, hands outstretched, to strangle him. Not even bothering to roll his eyes, Tim drew his concealed .44 and casually shot the man between the eyes.

"What the-"

He tuned out the flow of curses and waited for an opening.

"Where's Newport?"

"…Newport? Forget it, man! You can't just-"

_Bang._ Another man fell to the ground. Tim smoothly shifted the gun to the Hispanic and cocked it, his hand steady.

"Where. Is. Newport." He repeated the question.

"H-h-he-In there." The man's eyes were huge as he pointed to the building. "First office on the left."

"Thanks." In one motion, he removed his finger from the trigger and sent the weapon back into its hiding place.

As he made his way towards the building, the Hispanic uttered a colorful mix of expletives. Without looking back, Tim called, "You really shouldn't talk like that. If there is a God, that's not the way to get on his good side."

"What about you? Going around shooting people?"

"I'm already going to hell," he replied as he pushed open the door.

*NCIS*

A/N: I don't know what you thought if you don't tell me, you know…


	23. Chapter 22

A/N: Yay! So, here it is! I thought it was a little longer, but... it's longer than the last one. Not counting A/N's, it's 953 words. Last week's was around 600. The next one is VERY short; as in, I'd be surprised if it surpassed 400 words. Because of that (and because my sister is going to college next month, and I want to have finished posting this before that so she can read the completed product), I'll be posting two chapters next week, one on Monday as usual and one probably on Wednesday or Thursday. POSSIBLY Tuesday, but probably not. I really did my research for this, and I hope you enjoy it. It was really fun to write. I like guns (understatement of the year). Tell me what you think!

Shoutout to my AWESOME beta! McAbbyAddict, you rock! I really appreciate it, thanks again! I love your writing, and I love that you beta for me... Guys, if you haven't read any of her stuff, go check it out. She's huge on Timmy. Like me XD

*NCIS*

The first office on the left was large and comfortable. The man behind the desk looked up as Tim entered, folding his rough hands on his desk.

"How can I help you?"

"I've been told you may have some merchandise I'd be interested in buying."

"I see. Referral?"

"Rebecca Muse."

The man's face broke into a wide smile. "How is Rebecca?"

"Sneaky."

"Always." He extended his hand across the desk. "Andrew Newport. Firearms or explosives?"

"Firearms."

"Pistols, machine guns, shotguns…"

"Sniper rifles."

"We have a good selection. I have an inventory here-"

"-I'd prefer to see the product myself."

Newport shrugged, standing. "Suit yourself."

Tim followed him across the hallway and through a series of rooms and corridors, finally leading him down cement stairs to the basement. Assembly lines unloaded large crates from semis, filed down serial numbers and tags, and test fired each gun and logged the location each was placed in. On the other side of the huge concrete room, he could see sturdy boxes marked DANGER – EXPLOSIVE. HANDLE WITH CARE.

"Here we are." Tim turned his attention to the crate Newport was opening. "These are the very best sniper rifles we have."

The wooden lid came off, and Newport reached in and lovingly lifted one off the top.

"The SVN-98 from Russia. Bolt action, five round detachable box magazine." He gestured to another. "Armalite AR-50, from the good old U.S.A.. Bolt action, single shot, cylindrical multiflute recoil check.

"Steyr IWS 2000, Austria. 15.2mm, long recoil. Semi-automatic. And here," he said, replacing the SVN-98 and picking up a sleek black rifle, "here we have the RT-20 from Croatia. Manual operated, bolt action, range of 1800 meters. Single shot, manual loading. One of the best."

"Which one _is_ the best?"

Newport smiled broadly. It was incredibly apparent that he loved his job. "I think I have the one for you."

He turned to a small but strong man helping to unload the nearest truck. "Charlie, didn't we just get another shipment of MK-15's?"

Charlie wiped his forehead with his hand and looked up, presumably trying to remember. "…Yeah, we did. Jose, where are those MK-15's?"

"B-12."

"Thanks."

Newport led him down the rows of crates until they found it. B-12 was branded on the top and sides. Charlie wedged his crowbar under the lid and yanked it off, and Tim could see the excitement in Newport's eyes as he gingerly picked up the weapon.

"This… this is the McMillan TAC-50, also known as the MK-15. Manually operated rotary bolt action, five round detachable box magazine. It's 11.8 kilograms, made in the U.S.A., with a range of 2000 meters. This baby holds the world record for longest successful tactical shot in combat at 2430 meters. Along with being a 9mm, she's also fricking sweet." He handed the rifle to Tim.

He tested the weight, then flipped the safety off. Raising it to shooting position, he braced it against his shoulder and fired into the test shooting range thirty feet away. It was a lightweight, but it was powerful.

Charlie jumped at the shot. Newport, seemed unperturbed, simply smiling and asking, "What do you think?"

"I'll take it."

"Great. Charlie, will you get us the paperwork? Oh, and some spare shells."

Charlie hurried off. This man gave him the creeps. He had heard that some of the guys who hung around outside had been shot by a stranger about ten minutes ago. Maybe this was that stranger.

As he left the room, he glanced back and shuddered as he looked into the shooting range.

The stranger's shot was precisely on target.

*NCIS*

"No."

"Gibbs-"

"No."

"Hear me out!"

"He killed Abby, Ziva. You're not going in without backup."

"He will know it is a sham."

"Then we'll be there to get you out."

"No."

Gibbs' eyes flashed. "What?"

"No. If I am going to keep this cover, I should go in without-"

"I'm not leaving you alone with him."

"If I'm wired, he'll know. If he sees anyone from the party in New York, he'll suspect."

"Gibbs could go."

Both Gibbs and Ziva stopped and stared at Tony. They were standing in the middle of the bullpen, but Tony was at his desk, reading a magazine. As soon as he realized they were watching him, he looked up innocently.

"What?"

Neither of them answered.

"…I wasn't really paying attention…"

"No," Ziva said slowly, "you are right. Gibbs was in the van, and when he was in the building, Karisky was unconscious."

Gibbs couldn't deny the logic. "…Alright. But I'm there the whole time."

"Agreed."

*NCIS*

Glasses tinkled, and the low murmur of voices nearly covered the sound of the soft music. She'd certainly been in less comfortable undercover situations. Karisky pulled the chair back for her, and she thanked him, sitting down. Across the restaurant, she could see Gibbs.

Once Karisky was settled, she spoke.

"So, Mr. Karisky-"

"Oh, please, call me Demitri."

She smiled. "Alright, Demetri. What brings you to Washington D.C.?"

"Well, I haven't been in years, and I'd forgotten what a beautiful city it is." He flashed her a smile. "And when you said you lived here, I knew I had to check it out."

That, as Ziva soon discovered, was the very least of his smooth lines. He was quite capable as a ladies' man. She would have found him charming and sophisticated.

But she knew the truth. He was a murderer.

They talked about everything. Places, people, events, hobbies, work, and even had a discussion about film that Tony would have envied. Among his other skills, he was a wonderful conversationalist.

And at the end of the evening, when he asked to see her again, she said yes.

*NCIS*

A/N: I know, I know. The two halves of the chapter are waaaaay different. Sorry about that. I didn't want to leave you with the gun part, because I promised a longer chapter and it would have been shorter. But that gun part was SOOOOO fun to write! :) I don't know if you liked it or not if you don't tell me via reviews. Besides, reviews make me happy and being happy makes me want to post more. Please?


	24. Chapter 23

A/N: Hey! So, I know this chapter is _really_ short, which is why I'm going to be posting the next one either tomorrow or Wednesday. I'd really love to know what you think of this chapter, as I've gotten three reviews since I came back from hiatus on the 12th (thank you, anakinluvr and Lidil!) We're approaching the end of this (bittersweet for me, since this is the first story I ever posted, and I'll be so sad to see it end), and I really want to thank McAbbyAddict for being my awesome beta :) I didn't send her this chapter out of impatience (sorry!) but she's been incredible. Thank you! :)

P.S. I'm not sure about the dream sequence of this chapter. I may rewrite it later. About Tony rambling about the flowers, picture him doing it to make her smile. Oh, come on, you know he would :)

*NCIS*

Tony dreamt of Abby.

It wasn't the first time, of course. He had many times before. He was certain that he wasn't the only one.

Tonight, he dreamt of her wedding day.

He remembered finding her there, all alone, crying. She never cried. He asked her what was wrong.

She sniffled. "I'm scared."

He pulled her into a hug. "It's okay to be scared."

"It isn't making the commitment, it's just…"

"…The idea of being married," Tony finished for her. "I understand. It's a scary concept."

She smiled through her tears. "Exactly." Then, hugging him tighter, she whispered, "Thanks, Tony."

"Hey, no problem. Now, are you gonna go out and get married, or do I have to take the flowers back? I even got them in black and white." He frowned. "Well, not really white. They're more of a cream-ish, but not really yellow. It's like the white you see in those really old pictures, but more-"

She finally broke out into a laugh. He'd always loved hearing her laugh.

"That's my Abbs," he murmured.

She looked more like herself now, but there was still a hint of sadness in her eyes.

"I wish my dad was here," she said quietly.

"I know." They were silent for a few moments before he glanced at his watch. "But you'll have to make do with Gibbs."

She laughed again.

_Click._

That wasn't a part of the memory. His eyes flew open.

He couldn't hear anything. It was dark. He held his breath, afraid to make the smallest noise.

Then he felt the cold metal press up against his temple. He closed his eyes and waited for the trigger to be squeezed, exhaling shakily. He could sense the form of a person beside him, crouching next to his bed.

"Are you afraid of me?" they whispered.

He stared up at his ceiling. "Yes," he whispered back.

A few moments later, the barrel disappeared. He could still feel where it had been.

He didn't move for hours. He didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

Morning light confirmed his suspicions. No prints. No DNA. No evidence. Not even a mark on the floor to show that anyone had been there. On the table, and index card. Reading TIMOTHY MCGEE.

*NCIS*

Oh, don't look at me like that. You'll get an update soon. And before anyone complains about Tony being a coward, he wasn't. It isn't cowardly to be afraid when someone you can't see is in your apartment in the middle of the night pressing a gun to your head. And if that was the case, and you thought they might shoot you, wouldn't you tell the truth? Anyway, please review! Thanks!

P.S. Do you understand what kind of white it is? XD


	25. Chapter 24

A/N: Well, here it is :) I've been thinking about saying screw it to the whole once-weekly thing and just updating every couple of days. There isn't much left to this anyway :/ Thanks to Ismcfan, Lidil and smartkid37 for reviewing! It really means a lot to me.

McAbbyAddict will sadly probably never see this, but YOU'RE AWESOME! Thank you SO SO SO SO MUCH for being my beta! YOU ROCK!

Anyway, on with the show! :)

*NCIS*

Expensive Italian shoes _tsk_ed on the linoleum floor, echoing through the white halls. The wearer counted the doors until he came to one as nondescript as the rest, save for a long black scratch along the right side. He knocked twice, then entered without waiting for a response.

There were four men in the room, each of whom glanced up as he walked in. One was a huge hulk of a man, spending at least twenty hours a week at the gym, while two were average in every way: hair and eye color, size, face, height. The last was in a wheelchair. All but the muscular man smiled at him.

"So glad you could make it, Mills," the man in the wheelchair said.

"Always a pleasure, Spade." Mills turned to the others. "Pane, Dunn. Bruno."

As all but Bruno nodded, Spade was becoming more excited by the moment. "I've got a great one for you this time, really spectacular."

Dunn, one of the averages, looked doubtful. "I'm not doubting your abilities as a planner, Spade, but our jobs have become increasingly flashy."

"Yeah," Pane confirmed. "I mean, isn't the point of an assassination to be discreet?"

Spade's face fell. "You don't like my plans?"

Mills chose his words carefully. "They're certainly… dramatic. I like them," he hastened to assure, "but after the fiasco in Paris, we'd kind of like to lay low for a while."

"Alright." He pursed his lips. "I'll see what I can do."

_Bang._

With a gasp, Dunn fell, wide-eyed, to the floor. Pane angrily yelled something inaudible and turned to the door, only for the same gun to be cocked in his face. He put his hands up. After a moment, he opened his mouth to speak, only to have his head blown off his shoulders.

Without pause, that gun made a hole in Bruno's neck. A lot of good all that weight lifting did him. It shifted to Mills.

Swallowing, Mills followed the gun up the arm and to the face of the wielder. He was tall and pale, and there was a coldness in his eyes that Mills had worn himself countless times. But this was different, he could tell.

This was personal.

It took him a moment to realize that he'd seen this man before. Not this clearly, though. It had been dark.

"Do you recognize me?"

He hesitated. "Yes."

"Who am I?"

"I-I don't know."

That was clearly the wrong answer. The man's face darkened.

"Really? Do you remember the bullet you left in my shoulder? Do you remember her?"

He reached into his pocket and retrieved a photo, shoving it in his face.

The woman in the picture was happy and very much alive, with ivory skin and black hair. She was laughing at something off camera.

Yes. He remembered her.

The whole case came rushing back now. Someone had ordered a hit on that woman. Thy trapped her on a pier and he shot her protection, then killing her quickly. This man had been her bodyguard. And, apparently, her husband.

"I thought you died," whispered Mills.

"A lot of people did."

_Bang._

It looked like he was going to leave. But then, at the last moment, he turned and aimed the gun at Spade, cocking it, all in one fluid motion.

Spade trembled in fear and raised his hands. "I d-didn't do it. I w-was here."

"You planned it out," he seethed. "You showed them how to kill her."

_Bang._

Tim casually put his gun away, replacing the photo and, in it's place, drawing out an index card. He nonchalantly flipped it to the floor.

_TIMOTHY MCGEE._

Now, there were only two people left who had to die.

Karisky, and himself.

*NCIS*

Three weeks.

Three weeks, she had been "dating" Demetrius Karisky. She believed he trusted her, but she wasn't sure.

Until, of course, he invited her to go on a trip with him. For two weeks.

To Las Vegas.

Officially, it was a business trip. He had partners in Vegas, he told her. But they would still have time to enjoy the city.

She said yes. What else could she say?

She may have begun to like him. But she couldn't get past what he had done.

She couldn't forgive him.

Oh, well. She had pretended to be interested in someone before, once for four months. She could handle it.

The vengeance she wished for would have to wait.

*NCIS*

A/N: Well? Tell me what you think, I need to know these things. Now that I've screwed all orderly timeline, it'll get you updates faster :) And yes, that is an utter and shameless BRIBE. DEAL WITH IT. XD


	26. Chapter 25

A/N: Not much to say here, other than (A) I think two or three chapters left :/, and (B) thanks to Lidil, Ismcfan, beverlie4055 and anakinluvr for reviewing! Also, thank you again, McAbbyAddict, for being my beta – and being awesome :) Enjoy the chapter! Update will come soon :D

*NCIS*

The suite was spacious, to say the least. It was two stories, with a grand staircase and its own branch of concierge. The staff knew Karisky by name, and assured him that his "usual room" was ready and waiting for his use. There was a bottle of champagne on the table when they entered. Always the gentleman, he immediately suggested that they open it.

"What shall we drink to?"

He paused to consider the question. "The fact that there is a God."

"I didn't know you were religious."

"I'm not, but there must be. Someone as beautiful as you had to be created by a higher power."

She had to smile. She could picture Tony using a line like that.

As they drank their toast, Karisky's assistant entered and turned on the TV.

"Just wanted to catch the weather," he murmured apologetically.

Karisky waved a hand. "Carry on."

"…and we're actually expecting some rain tomorrow afternoon, which is highly unusual for this area, this time of year. It should clear up before sunset, though, and that promises to be very beautiful."

_The rain follows me._

Ziva banished the thought from her head as soon as it entered. It had nothing to do with her.

Still, as it tapped against the windows the next afternoon, she couldn't help but feel a bit melancholy.

*NCIS*

The rain was easing off.

She knew she had to come up with some excuse to go out. She needed to report to Gibbs. She didn't have enough to pin on Karisky to make an arrest, but she was getting there, slowly but surely.

Luckily for her, though, she didn't have to. He suggested it.

"Hey, I have some business to take care of. It might be a while, and you look kind of down, why don't you go out and do something fun?"

"What would I do?"

"You could go shopping, or go to a show."

_Why do men always assume that all women like shopping?_

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, removing his credit card. "Here. There are no limits on it, spend whatever you like."

She smiled. "Thank you." He didn't know how easy he had just made her job. As she let the elevator carry her down to the main floor, she texted Gibbs, telling him where to meet her.

She had no way of knowing that Tim McGee was in the elevator next to hers, going up.

*NCIS*

A/N: Well?


	27. Chapter 26

A/N: Finally, the moment of truth! Here we have the somewhat anti-climactic climax. PLEASEOHPLEASE tell me what you think. We're nearing the end, now more than ever. Don't you want the world to know what you thought?

Thanks to Ismcfan and Lidil for reviewing, and let's hear it again for McAbbyAddict for being the BEST BETA EVER! :D

On with the show!

*NCIS*

It was so simple. Karisky's suite took up two floors and required a key. Fortunately it was an updated building, so it took key cards instead of actual keys.

He got in an elevator alone and set to work, removing the metal cover from the control panel. He then redirected the power from the emergency lights to the main panel, and from there to the appropriate floor number. The light flashed green, and the cover was put back on the panel.

All of this took less than a minute to his experienced hands.

After that, he waited for the doors to open.

The sniper rifle from Los Angeles had served him well. He'd used it for a small project, and again ten minutes before to take out Karisky's security guards. It was all too easy.

He knew he didn't have long. Tony had somehow spotted him in the streets and chased him. He lost him, but it wouldn't take Tony long to reach the hotel.

There he was. Finally. Right there, across the room. Looking out the window.

He didn't take long to spot Tim standing there.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" He turned to his assistant. "Thomas, get him out of here."

Thomas began to approach him.

_Bang._

His weapon was no longer concealed, but that didn't matter now. Now his intent was clear.

Karisky's eyes were huge. "What the- who _are_ you?"

The hate was displayed on his face. "Tim McGee."

"Who?"

"Abby Sciuto, do you remember her?"

"Abby Sciuto… Oh, the one who thought she caught me in the act?"

"She _did _catch you in the act. If you didn't do anything, why is she dead?"

Karisky sighed. "Look, it wasn't personal. It was bad for business."

"What if I went to Oregon and shot your sister and her husband in the head? Would that make it personal enough for you?" Tim's face darkened. "Oh, wait. I already did."

"I don't know what you want, but I can get it-"

"I'm not making a deal."

"No! Don't-"

_Bang._

It was as simple as that. Demetrius Karisky was dead.

It was a mixture of emotions rushing through his veins. One was relief. It was finally over. He sighed.

The other was odd in combination with the former, but it seemed natural. Emptiness.

He cocked the gun and raised it to his head.

But then he thought better of it. He glanced at the body. Despite his usual agenda of _no evidence_, he spat on his enemy.

He left the building with a sense of finality. He would be dead within the hour.

He couldn't stand to die near Karisky, though. He had no doubt that he'd be able; he'd been ready for years. He'd been ready since she fell to the pier beside him.

If hell existed, he was convinced he deserved it. The men he had hunted, their punishment was done.

Now it was his turn.

Unless living without Abby this long had been his punishment, his personal hell.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he pushed harder against the throng of people, squeezing between and beside them. He was the only one headed in that direction. That felt like his life. He ignored the tears streaming down his face as he made his way back to his hotel.

*NCIS*

"Clear!" It echoed in Tony's mind as if it had been said aloud. The apartment was empty. He was alone.

Taking a closer look, he recognized the still form of a body on the floor. A quick glance told him the identity of the dead man.

The second the face registered, he dashed out the door and made his way down the street, glancing right before turning left to fight the sea of people rushing in the other direction.

*NCIS*

A/N: Well? Don't worry, we're not done yet. I wouldn't leave you with that. …Or would I? ;)


	28. Chapter 27

A/N: I'm going to stop saying that chapters should be up soon, because every time I do, it takes, like, a WEEK. And yet, when I say I don't know when it'll br up, it's always, like, the next day. How does that work? lol

Thank you Ismcfan, Lidil and MacMhuirich for reviewing! Also thanks to McAbbyAddict, for being awesome! You're the best beta ever! :) :D

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE review! I would give you a giant Abby-sized hug and a mental cookie if you did :)

*NCIS*

It seemed to take a lifetime for the clerk to get his room key, but eventually he made it in, locking the door.

He glanced around the room, quickly locating his bag. He shoved a chair in front of the door before locking the balcony doors and closing the curtains. Finally, he pulled the gun from his pocket and cocked it, but stopped.

It had Karisky's blood on it.

He deemed it worth it to clean the gun first. Having much experience, he moved quickly.

*NCIS*

He couldn't believe this. The crowd seemed to simply expand with every second.

"Move!" he shouted, but his words were lost in the commotion. Glancing up first to ensure that there were no civilians leaning from windows, he fired a lone bullet into the air. "Move!"

People scattered left and right, ducking into buildings and jumping into the street.

He knew it wouldn't last. Not in Vegas.

He took advantage of the clear sidewalk, running faster than he could ever remember being able.

*NCIS*

Outside. Inside. Until every bit of blood was gone. Meticulously clean. Just the way he had always been.

_Some things never change._

He laid the gun neatly on the table and looked at the picture one last time. They had been so happy then. He regretted that his last days had been so dark in comparison, but never why. They were supposed to live for a long time together. Now that would never happen.

He wouldn't look out at the world again. He had seen all of it he wished to see. It wouldn't mean much without her.

He shouldn't.

He was tempted. He knew it wasn't good to stall on these things, but he was remembering a better time. A happier time, when he would innocently marvel at the good in the world.

There wasn't much left nowadays. It was so easily exploited. He was a living testament to that.

_Not living much longer,_ he reminded himself. But the person he had been longed for it, once more.

You really shouldn't…

Before he could dissuade himself, he strode over to the doors and flung them open again, taking in the scene before him as he stepped out onto the balcony.

Rain didn't happen much in Nevada, he knew. But what they had gotten earlier had cleared the air, made it fresh and new. He breathed it in, absorbing the visual barrage ahead. The setting sun lit the sky red and pink, with hues of brown, orange and blue. The open desert was a beautiful haze, with spindly cacti and tumbleweeds contrasting with the red clay.

It was gorgeous.

He smiled, closing his eyes and feeling the warm breeze on his face.

"You would have loved this, Abbs," he whispered as the last rays of light fell gently on his face.

For a moment, he was perfectly still. He could feel nothing but that concentrated warmth, like pure pleasure. There was no pain from his shoulder. No heartache from his missing piece.

For a moment, just a moment, he almost felt whole.

But then the pain, ever-present, returned as he heard someone pushing against the door to his room. He knew who it was. He finished soaking it in and stepped back inside, shutting the doors quietly behind himself. His finger flipped the lock.

His legs carried him over to the bed, and he picked up the gun, staring at it for a moment. Then he held it up to his head.

*NCIS*

A/N: Oh, come on. I couldn't give you a cliffhanger before I went on hiatus, so here they are now. MWAHAHAHAHA! Please review! It makes me update faster.


	29. Chapter 28

A/N: So, here it is. The last chapter. *sigh* This is really sad for me. Surprise, though - there will be an epilogue to this story, so stay tuned. I also reread the story, and I realized that the first ten or so chapters are terrible, so I'll be rewriting those at some point. The rewrite isn't a priority for me, however. Anyway, this is the anniversary of this story - one year since the prologue was posted! Cheers! Tell me what you think, and please review! :D

XXX

Tony shoved against the door, but something was blocking the way. Desperately, he flew down all three flights of stairs and to the back, looking up to see the balcony doors to Tim's room just closing. There was a ladder leaned against the wall nearby that city workers had been using to fix a powerline; he decided to borrow it.

Ignoring the working men's protests, he scaled the ladder and jumped onto the balcony, trying the doors. Locked. Glancing around, he noticed a small potted cacti on the corner table. He hurled it at the doors.

The glass shattered inwards, and the weight of the pot tore the curtains down. He scanned the room quickly, until his gaze came to rest on the bed.

His heart, which had been thudding in his chest, came to a rapid halt. The white sheets were rapidly turning red below the limp, unmoving figure resting there. The face was turned away from the window, but the identity was obvious.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to breathe. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

Somehow his legs managed to carry him over, and he sat on the bed, shaking hands going to his head. All he could think about was every mistake he'd made. Anything he could have said to show that he was there for Tim, some way to stop him from doing this to himself. Most prevalent was the question of whether he could have been faster, and, if he had been, would he have been able to prevent this.

After a few minutes, he reached unsteadily into his pocket and retrieved his phone, dialing Gibbs' number. As it rang, he noticed something in Tim's hand.

"_Gibbs."_

He slowly pulled at what he discovered to be a picture, pulling it gently from the cold hand of his silent companion. His breath caught as the realized it was from Tim and Abby's wedding.

"_Hello?"_

He swallowed. "Boss."

"_DiNozzo? Where are you?"_

"…I found him, Boss."

XXX

The warm night air was illuminated by flashing blue and red lights resting atop police cars and a solitary ambulance stationed outside the hotel, their accompanying sirens long silent. Tony sat in the back of the ambulance, legs hanging off the end and lightly touching the cooling pavement. He didn't notice that Ziva sat quietly beside him until she spoke.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"What do you want me to say?" He didn't mean to sound as sharp as he did.

She sighed. "What you are feeling. And don't deny it, because I know you must feel _something _about it."

"I don't know what I'm _supposed_ to feel."

"It isn't required that you react a certain way, Tony. You have a right to be sad, angry, confused, or anything else you need to be."

"…I guess I just need to sort all this out."

"That is reasonable." She patted his knee. "If you need to speak to someone, you know you can tell me."

She stood and began to walk away. He hesitated before calling to her.

"Hey, Ziva."

She turned slowly, and he saw that her strong façade had slipped for just a moment. Tears glistened in her eyes.

She spoke quietly. "Yes?"

"…How are we going to come back from this?"

There was a long silence. Finally, she replied.

"…I don't know, Tony. I don't know that we will."

XXX

A/N: Review, please!


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